


Sunshine Days Retreat

by Pigzxo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, questionable therapy practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: Dean and Cas set out on a case at the Sunshine Days Retreat, intent on catching whoever's been killing couples and leaving their bodies in the woods. What they don't realize is that Sunshine Days is a couple's retreat and in order to keep their cover, they'll have to pretend to be in a troubled marriage. As the case moves forward, being in therapy together forces Cas and Dean to face their feelings for each other.





	Sunshine Days Retreat

The drive out to the retreat was steeped in awkward silence. Dean didn’t know why he hadn’t just let Cas zap them there. Well, he did. Two guys showing up in the middle of nowhere without a car? That was bound to throw up some red flags. But surely Cas could have zapped himself while Dean drove and then Dean wouldn’t be subjected to _this_.

            Dean spent half the drive mumbling along to Led Zepplin songs and the other half being annoyed that Sam had gotten himself injured on their last hunt. If that damned demon hadn’t used poison, Cas could have fixed Sam right up and Sam would be beside him now, on the way to the case, and Dean wouldn’t have to deal with Cas. Cas, who after two whole months of radio silence, had shown up like absolutely nothing was wrong.

            And, sure, nothing was wrong. Nothing had been all that wrong in a while. But was Dean insane for wanting his best friend to call him every once in a while? Check in? Hell, Cas had a room in the bunker and had probably been slumming it in motel rooms rather than come _home_. And why? The guy still wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

            As Dean dwelled on all this, Cas said, “Dean.”

            “What?” Dean snapped.

            “You missed the turn.”

            Dean held back his huff of annoyance and pulled a U-turn on the dirt road. It was a tight fit – the road was narrow and lined with thick evergreens – but he just made it without scraping the side of the Impala. Chuck help Cas if missing the turn meant ruining Baby’s paint job.

            Dean made the turn the second time and the car trundled down a gravel road. With a quick jerk of the wheel, Dean parked the car beside a large black truck and cut the engine. He was out of the car and around to the trunk before Cas had even moved.

            “Dean,” Cas said. He stopped talking to take the suitcase Dean shoved at him and put it on the ground. “Maybe we should go over our cover story. Make sure we have it down.”

            “What’s there to go over?” Dean didn’t look at him as he got the last duffel bag out and slammed the trunk closed. He rested his palms against the car to steady himself. “We’re agents on a retreat. Rest and relaxation and working on our teamwork skills. You read the brochure.”

            “Right,” Cas said. “And our names?”

            “We’re playing the long game, Cas. We use our real names.”

            Dean grabbed a suitcase handle and headed towards what looked to be the main building. The place was set in a large clearing with neatly mowed too-green grass and wildflowers popping up at random intervals. From the parking area, Dean could see three buildings, all made of logs. The one in front was the largest and had its front door propped open so that the nice but somewhat kitschy interior could be seen.

            Dean headed towards the front desk and rang the bell. He felt Cas stop just a bit behind him, hovering as always. He tried to swallow his annoyance.

            A middle-aged woman in a plaid shirt and jeans came out of the back with a large smile. “Hey there,” she said. “You’re here for the retreat?”

            “Yeah, it’s under, uh, Dean—”

            “Dean and Cas Winchester. Yes.” She picked up a pen and ticked off a box on a sheet of paper. As she scrambled for the keys, Dean got an uneasy feeling in his stomach. True, Cas didn’t exactly _have_ a last name, so it wasn’t so far-fetched to believe that Sam had used their last name to book them for the retreat, but the lady knowing that without a second’s hesitation? Maybe the list of retreat guests was small. She looked back at him with a smile and handed him a heavy gold key. “Your room is on the third floor, number 308. Unfortunately, there’s no elevator but carrying the bags together will be a great team exercise!”

            Dean stared at her for a moment. “Yeah. Sure.”

            Her smile hesitated around the corners but she kept it up well enough. “The opening mixer is tonight at eight. It features a buffet dinner and a chance to get to know the other guests. Until then, rest, relax, have some fun. This week will be jam packed with activities to make your relationship with your partner stronger!”

            Dean narrowed his eyes at her.

            “I’m Jennifer. Give me a ring at the front desk here if you need anything.” When they still didn’t move, she added, “Is there anything else I can do for you right now?”

            Dean shrugged and grabbed his bags. Starting for the stairs, he heard Cas thank the front desk lady before moving into step behind him. Dean sighed. “She could be the one killing people, Cas,” he whispered. “Don’t be overly friendly.”

            “She might not be killing people,” Cas argued, “and in that case, why be rude?”

            Dean bit his lower lip but said nothing. He wasn’t sure if he preferred the silence of the car to the walk upstairs or not. But when he got to the room, he turned to Cas and said, “I’m gonna try to get a little shut eye. How about you wander around and see if you can find any clues before the mixer tonight?”

            Cas nodded. “Should I wake you up if I find anything?”

            “Wake me up ten minutes before eight,” Dean grumbled. He pushed through the door, taking the suitcase in Cas’ hand too, and slammed the door shut before Cas could say anything else. With a sigh, he leaned back against the door and surveyed the room.

            Odd. Why would Sam book them a room that only had one bed? He knew Cas didn’t have to sleep but that had never stopped them from getting Cas a bed before. And the bed itself was, well, quite small. A double, at best. Dean guessed he could live with that – after all, he’d slept in the backseat of his car more than once.

            Leaving the suitcases at the door, Dean dropped down onto the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep took some time to come but it did come, slow and deep and suddenly like he was drowning.

 

Cas wandered around the hotel slowly, trying to catalogue every inch of the place. But from the wooden walls to the ratty carpets and the hotel paintings, there was nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like a normal middle-of-the-woods retreat to him. Not that he’d ever been to one before.

            With hours to spare, Cas had already memorized the layout of four out of five buildings. The fifth was locked and, when he knocked, he was told it was where the counsellors lived and worked and was off limits. Cas supposed that was suspicious – wasn’t everything suspicious while he was on a case? – and filed it away to tell Dean later.

            If Dean would listen to him. Cas wasn’t an idiot. He knew the older Winchester was annoyed with him, wanted to know where he’d been, what he’d been up to, what was happening. But there were so few ways to tell Dean that he’d been up in heaven, helping with reorganization, getting to know his siblings again. It just wasn’t something he could tell Dean. Dean didn’t understand what it was like to have two families that hated each other. Two families that didn’t want to know about each other.

            Cas decided to get some ice. If nothing else, having ice would mean Dean could keep cold beer in the room and that might stop him from snapping Cas’ head off at any giving opportunity. As Cas rounded the corner, he saw two people approaching him with an ice bucket held between them. He offered them a cautious smile.

            To his surprise, they stopped. The man reached out his hand. “Jeffrey Davies,” he said. “And this is my partner, Annabelle.” The woman smiled.

            Cas shook the man’s hand and then the woman’s. “Hello,” he said. And when they kept staring, he added, “I’m Castiel.” A blanker pause. “Winchester. People call me Cas.”

            “So nice to meet you!” Annabelle’s smile widened to epic proportions and Cas worried she may break her face. But she went on pleasant enough, as if that expression didn’t hurt her at all. “We’ve met most of the other teams by now and everyone’s been wondering about the last pair. Where is your other half?”

            “My... other half?” Cas looked down, half expecting to see only half of himself.

            “You know,” Jeffrey prompted. “Your wife.”

            Cas blinked. “I don’t have a wife.”

            Annabelle laughed nervously and shared a glance with her husband that Cas couldn’t read. He knew he’d made them feel awkward but couldn’t exactly pinpoint how.

            Jeffrey clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, where’s your partner then? The counsellors are very strict about sticking together as a team, you know.”

            “Oh. He wanted to get some rest. It was a long drive up here.”

            Jeffrey and Annabelle frowned. Then Annabelle reached forward and took Cas’ hand in both of hers. She squeezed tight. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, “but don’t worry. This place is supposed to work wonders. I’m sure the two of you will be very happy by the time you leave here.”

            Cas nodded and watched as they walked past him. He felt an uneasiness in his chest and a tickling feeling in his brain like he was missing something. The retreat was proving to be a strange place. A very strange place. And he wondered if perhaps the murders had less to do with one supernatural entity and more to do with some large scale brainwashing operation. It would certainly explain all the odd behaviour.

            Remembering the ice, Cas went to complete his task and then headed back to the room. It was still three hours until eight and Dean had locked the door. True, Cas could teleport himself inside but Dean was asleep. And he hated when Cas watched him sleep. So Cas settled down on the hallway floor to wait and cradled the ice bucket between his legs. He realized, belatedly, that all the ice would melt before he woke Dean. But hopefully the gesture might be enough to warm his heart.

            After sitting in monotonous silence for a few hours, Cas stood up and knocked on the door to their room. When nothing happened, he knocked harder. And then, with a groan, Dean opened the door and promptly stepped right into the bucket of ice water. He looked down blankly, still bleary from his nap, and then met Cas’ eyes with no expression whatsoever.

            “I thought you’d want ice for your beer,” Cas explained.

            “Not for my foot. Really?” Dean backed into the room, shaking off his foot and scrubbing a hand down his face. Cas stepped in after him and shut the door as Dean continued, “Look. This mixer thing tonight is the perfect opportunity to scope out the staff, see who’s slicing people up from head to toe. So I say we split up, make our rounds, and come back together at the end of the night to compare notes.” Almost as an afterthought, while stripping off his soaking sock, Dean added, “Did you find anything this afternoon?”

            “No.” Cas reconsidered. “There was a locked staff bunk that might be worth checking out. And a strange couple who seemed to think it was sad that I went to get ice alone.”

            Dean gave him a strange look and then shrugged. “Maybe it’s this whole ‘team’ bullshit they’re throwing around. Everyone has to have ‘partners’ and be on a ‘team’ and do things ‘together.’” He grunted and then sighed as he realized the cuff of his jeans was wet. Without preamble, he pulled down his pants and Cas quickly averted his eyes. “That whole brochure was full of junk like that.”

            “It seems like some sort of brainwashing program,” Cas said to the wall. He stared at an oddly erotic painting of a pink woman and an apple. “Perhaps this isn’t a monster at all. Perhaps it’s just some sort of cult.”

            “Well, if it’s a cult, it’s one that can split people in half and put other people _inside_ them, so I think that’s still well worth investigating.”

            Cas glanced over his shoulder to check if Dean was done dressing and found him in a pair of nice slacks and a button up shirt. When Dean met his eyes, Cas blinked and said, “You’re wearing a suit.”

            Dean snorted. “It’s not a suit. _You’re_ in a suit.” He closed one of the last buttons on his shirt and then walked over to Cas. Cas stood perfectly still as Dean pushed his trench coat off his shoulders and then flipped his tie over so it was flat. “We gotta look nice, right? After all, we’re still FBI around here.”

            “Just undercover FBI,” Cas said. “FBI on vacation.”

            Dean clicked his tongue. “You got it.”

            As Dean headed for the door, Cas said, “You seem to be in a better mood.”

            “Free food and free booze,” he replied. “What could be better?”

            Cas let himself smile as Dean turned away. He followed close behind and let a more comfortable silence fall over them. This he could do. This silence, this _the case is on_ silence. He thought it suited them, spoke volumes about how well they could work together if they tried. So he said nothing as they entered the lobby, asked Jennifer for directions, and headed down towards the ballroom.

            They slowed as other couples started to appear in the hall in front of them. Soon they were at a standstill, waiting. “Guess the room’s not open yet,” Dean mumbled. He pulled out his phone and checked the time, then stayed on the device.

            Cas looked around and caught a glimpse of Jeffrey and Annabelle further ahead in line. He waved. They smiled back at him, glanced towards Dean, and frowned. Annabelle shot him a sympathetic look before leaning over to whisper something in her partner’s ear. Cas let his hand drop and glanced towards Dean.

            “I don’t think you’re supposed to be on your phone,” he said.

            “FBI business,” Dean muttered. “I’m telling Sam how it’s going.”

            Cas sighed and looked around. They shuffled further forward in line, the tension between them growing, and Cas swallowed his urge to tell Dean everything. Telling Dean about heaven wouldn’t fix things, it would make it worse. He needed to come up with a lie. A good one. One that Dean would both believe and not be annoyed with, a tough combination to come by.

            As they got closer to the door, Cas could see the people milling about inside. They stuck close together, in pairs. Cas frowned as he saw a glint of metal between a couple and then caught sight of a man at the door with a basket. Cas’ stomach dropped. He nudged Dean with his elbow. “Dean,” he said, “I think we’re in trouble here.”

            “They can’t possibly be sacrificing people the moment they walk in,” Dean whispered. “It’s not good business.”

            Cas sighed and opened his mouth to try to convey his concern but they were too close. As the man helped the couple in front of them, he looked up and smiled at Cas. Cas smiled back, doing his best to swallow the bile in his throat as he caught sight of what was in the basket. Yeah. They were screwed.

            “Hello and welcome,” the man said. “I am Dr. Magnusson and I will be your head counsellor here at the Sunshine Days Retreat.” He reached forward and plucked the phone out of Dean’s hand. He dropped it in a lock box behind him and smiled at Dean’s outraged expression. “Here at Sunshine Days, we pride ourselves on _human_ interaction. Therefore, no cell phones are allowed. If you have an urgent call to make, you are more than welcome to make it from the landline in your room.” He looked towards Cas. “Do you have a phone, sir?”

            Cas handed it over without a word.

            “As you know, here at Sunshine Days, we pride ourselves on helping partners realize that they are ultimately a team in all things they do,” he said. “No matter your problems or your troubles, we’re here to help you overcome them. And we do this through a series of exercises and practices that may seem... unconventional, but we assure you, we have had nothing but success.”

            “Nothing but success, huh?” Dean chuckled a little. “Sounds like you made a deal with the devil.”

            Dr. Magnusson’s eyes wrinkled with his smile and he dipped his hand into the basket. With one smooth motion, he reached forward and took Dean’s hand. “I assure you, there are no demons here other than your own.” He locked one end of the handcuffs around Dean’s wrist and then reached for Cas. Before either of them could pull back or protest, they were locked together.

            “What the fuck?” Dean said, yanking on the cuffs.

            “Teamwork,” Dr. Magnusson explained, “starts with realizing that you are one, not two. You need to start acting as one. The handcuffs help people take that concept from the symbolic to the literal.”

            “Okay, whatever, but sometimes me and my partner need to split up,” Dean snapped. “We need our space.”

            “Space is the opposite of what you need, Mr. Winchester.” The doctor sighed and offered a sympathetic smile to Cas. “I’m sure your partner here would agree after he spent the day locked out of your room, wandering around on his own.”

            “Are you spying on us?”

            “Not spying, Mr. Winchester. Keeping an eye on your progress.”

            Dean opened his mouth to argue more but Dr. Magnusson waved them on, ready to greet the next couple in line. Cas kept firmly silent as they stumbled into the ballroom and scanned the crowds of handcuffed guests.

            “Okay,” Dean whispered. “How are we gonna get out of these things?”

            Cas looked down at the metal cuffs and turned over his wrist. “I could zap right out of them,” he said, “but that may undermine our position here as active and willing participants in the retreat. I fear that we may—”

            “Yeah, yeah.” Dean waved him off and headed for the buffet.

            Cas scrambled to keep up with him. He took his own plate and piled it with food even though he didn’t need it – after all, it’d look weird if he didn’t – and took things that Dean suggested. He knew the plate would become Dean’s seconds anyways and that was better than wasting food.

            When they reached the end of the buffet line, they looked for a table but there didn’t seem to be any. At all. Everyone stood around eating off plates with utensils in one hand, pulling their handcuffed hands between each other and ultimately making a mess. “Fantastic,” Dean breathed out and Cas spared a second of gratitude that Dean was now more annoyed at the retreat than at him.

            “We should talk to the staff,” Cas said. He looked around to find the few people without handcuffed partners, those who were speaking with smiles instead of strained grimaces. “Ask them about their policies.”

            “Well, their current policy is to handcuff people, so I’m gonna say that’s a red flag.”

            Cas bit down on a sigh and half-pulled Dean towards the nearest counsellor. She was a pretty woman with blonde hair and red lips and Cas thought that, at least, should be enough to cow Dean into behaving. Maybe. “Hello,” Cas said. “My name is Cas and this is my partner, Dean. We want to ask you some questions about your operation here.”

            “Yeah. Like what’s up with the handcuffs?”

            She smiled. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Dr. Lehan and I focus mostly on the study of home life. Can I ask you what things are like at home?”

            “Well, he’s barely there,” Dean said.

            “Oh?”

            “I had some business to take care of,” Cas said. “That’s all.”

            “Some business you refuse to tell me about. What is it, Cas? You got a secret family somewhere? A wife? Kids?”

            “This is not the place, Dean.”

            “I think this is exactly the place. Aren’t we here to become stronger partners?”

            “Dean—”

            “All right,” Dr. Lehan exclaimed. Her smile had gone from happy to strained and she tried her best to meet both men’s eyes. “You two seem to be having a lot of issues but that’s all right. That is why you’re here. And we are here to help you. But tonight is really more of a mixer, a get to know you thing. But when we start our sessions, we can definitely speak more about this.”

            “What do these sessions entail?” Dean asked.

            “They’re your basic couple’s therapy.”

            “Oh, no.” Dean shook his head. “I don’t do therapy.”

            “Then I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place, Dean.” Dr. Lehan shot Cas a sympathetic look. “I wish the two of you the absolute best but I must speak to everyone. You understand?”

            Cas nodded as Dean picked up an entire pork chop on his fork and bit into it. Cas frowned at him but said nothing. He was getting that feeling in his stomach again, that feeling they were missing something. Before he could urge them on to the next staff member or make Dean behave, Jeffrey and Annabelle approached.

            “Hi, we’re Jeffrey and Annabelle,” he said. “We met your partner earlier. It’s so nice to meet you.”

            Dean eyed them sideways and Cas suddenly understood the human urge to pray. He wanted to pray that Dean would be polite, stay in line, stay in character. But who was going to answer an angel’s prayers? Chuck? He was long gone.

            “Hey,” Dean said while chewing. “You guys partners too?”

            “Yeah,” Annabelle said. “Approaching seven years.”

            “We’re just trying to avoid that seven year itch, you know?” Jeffrey moved his arm, perhaps trying to get it around Annabelle, but was prevented by the handcuffs. He chuckled uncomfortably. “Every relationship is a work in progress, right?”

            Dean stared at them for a moment, then said, “Sure.”

            The four of them stared at each other for a long time. Cas knew this was one of those inopportune awkward silences he had heard about but wasn’t sure what to say. He blurted, “Did you know a queen bee can lay up to fifteen hundred eggs a day?”

            Annabelle nodded as if that were interesting. Jeffrey continued to stare.

            Dean scoffed. “Nice one, buddy.”

            “I hope you two get the help you need,” Annabelle said, quite seriously.

            Dean gave her a nasty look.

            Cas said, “Thank you,” quite sincerely.

            Then, before any other disasters could happen, someone tapped on a microphone. Cas and Dean turned towards the front of the room where a makeshift stage had been made out of crates. Dr. Magnusson stood atop it, smiling into the microphone, his hands clasped behind his back.

            “Well, hello out there,” he said. “It’s so nice to see so many friendly faces staring back at me. By this time, I hope you’ve had a chance to have some food and speak to some of the staff and our other guests. As you know, Sunshine Days Retreat is a month-long, intensive, couple’s therapy retreat focused on getting you and your partner back to the best versions of yourself. Back to being a team.”

            “Is that the second person who’s said _couple’s therapy_?” Dean murmured.

            Cas shushed him even though he was thinking the same thing.

            “Your first task, as you may have noticed, is being handcuffed for this little mixer here. You may have noticed you have to work together to balance plates and eat the food. So far, you’ve all been doing splendidly.” He paused as if expecting applause and then cleared his throat when he got none. “While our formal activities do not start until tomorrow morning, I have been so happy with this little exercise that I would like to extend it.”

            There was a slow rise of murmurs in the room, panic. Dean looked around and Cas stared down at the handcuffs.

            “You will all remain handcuffed together for the night and possibly for the rest of the week.” Dr. Magnusson smiled widely. “We’ll see how it goes.”

            Cas met Dean’s eyes and he tried to read the panic there. Okay, yes, it was inconvenient. Certainly exploring and investigating would go better if they could split up but it wasn’t as if they intended to be around for the full week. The mission was simple: find the monster, kill it, get the hell out of dodge. How many times had Dean said that since they left the bunker?

            Cas felt a tug on his arm and was suddenly cascading forward after Dean. Dean caught Dr. Magnusson by the shoulder as he stepped off of stage and slammed him into the nearest wall. “Dean,” Cas hissed as several people gasped and everyone’s eyes landed on them.

            But Dean wasn’t listening. “You’re gonna keep us handcuffed for a _week_? Are you insane? How are we supposed to live like that?”

            Dr. Magnusson, amazingly, kept his calm. Even though he was a small man – Dean easily had six inches on him and was twice his width – he smiled up at Dean like there was nothing wrong. Like he didn’t know Dean could throw a punch and smash his skull in. He cleared his throat and said, “While I’m certain it will be difficult, perhaps inconvenient, I also believe it will help you and your partner work as a team. You’ll learn to work together. You may even learn new things about each other.”

            Dean snorted. “Maybe I don’t want to know him that well, _doctor_.”

            “What exactly is your concern?” He offered a confused smile and looked towards Cas. “Certainly you have no problem being in the company of this beautiful man.”

            Dean slammed him into the wall again and Cas winced. “You listen to me,” Dean hissed. “This is not gonna happen. I need my space. I need my _privacy_. Hell, how do you expect me to change my clothes? To shower? To sleep?”

            Dr. Magnusson’s confused smile just became outright confusion. He glanced between Cas and Dean and Cas got it the second before he opened his mouth. And he knew they were both dead in the water. The doctor said, “I don’t understand the issue. You’re married.”

            The moment of silence was probably less than a second. It probably took no time at all. But Cas felt it like a glass shattering, when all the shards get caught in his hand and the sound balloons outwards before crescendoing against the ground. He reached out a hand and touched Dean’s shoulder, hoping to steady him, to calm him before he blew their cover.

            “Married,” Dean repeated like he had never heard the word before. His arm dropped from the doctor’s neck and he stepped back. Then, with a laugh full of nerves Cas didn’t even know Dean had, he said, “Married. Of course. We’re married. Sorry.” He laughed again, sounding wildly unhinged, and the doctor nervously joined in.

            “Come on, hubby,” Dean said, pulling at Cas. “Let’s go back to our room.”

 

Dean slammed the door to the room so hard it shook the walls. He felt like he was having a panic attack but his body hadn’t quite clued into it yet. His breath was even, his heart felt fine, and his hand was steady in front of him. But his thoughts stuck like a broken record on the word _married_ and he felt like he was looking down on himself from above, a sensation he’d never had without dying first.

            In all seriousness, he turned to face Cas and said, “Am I dead?”

            Cas blinked, shocked, and then said, “No?”

            Dean let out a long breath and sat down hard on the end of the bed. He forgot as he raised his hands to his face that Cas was attached to him and immediately stopped the motion. “Okay,” he said. “Get us out of these things.”

            “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dean.”

            “What?”

            “I can get out of them but back in? My accuracy isn’t perfect. And if we break the lock or pick it, it may show signs of tampering. And I don’t know how the doctors will react to—”

            “Are you kidding me right now?” Dean stared at Cas and when the other man showed no signs of joking, Dean let out a laughing sigh. He didn’t like the sounds coming out of his mouth tonight. He sounded insane, unhinged, and he didn’t know how to fix it. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll just stay handcuffed, I guess. Good thing I showered this afternoon.”

            Cas frowned at him and Dean hated that sometimes the angel could tell when he was lying.

            In a burst of new rage, rage Dean didn’t know how to deal with, he stood up and yanked Cas over to the bedside table. Dean grabbed the phone and dialed Sam’s number. He stared at Cas while the line rang, hating the concern in his eyes, hating that he was worried. He didn’t need him worried. He needed him pissed. He needed Cas to be just as mad about this as he was because if he wasn’t, what did that say about him?

            Dean felt his thoughts and emotions swirling as the line kept ringing. The word _married_ echoed in his ears. He and Cas were married. Fake married. And it made his head swim for reasons completely unknown.

            “Stop looking at me,” Dean mumbled.

            Cas blinked and looked away. Dean followed his eyes to a pink painting on the wall of a woman with an apple up her – oh. That was worse. Definitely worse than Cas staring at him. Dean looked down at his feet.

            “Hello?” Sam said.

            “Sam, I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Dean said.

            There was a moment of silence, a slight laugh. “What?”

            “This is a fucking couple’s retreat, Sam. It’s not a _partners’_ retreat. It is not for freaking police or FBI or anything like that. It is for goddamn married people, Sam, and I do not believe for a second that you and your Harvard Law research skills missed that fact.”

            Sam started to laugh.

            Dean bit his tongue hard enough to make his vision go momentarily blank. “Sam,” he snapped and he knew he had crossed from pissed to seriously angry when his brother’s laughter cut off abruptly. He felt guilt settle in his stomach but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. “What the fuck, Sam? Tell me you didn’t know.”

            “I didn’t know,” Sam said. Dean could hear the computer clicking in the background. “Their whole website uses words like ‘partner’ and ‘team.’ They don’t even talk about love or romance or... shit.”

            “What?”

            “I may have misinterpreted a paragraph on physical activity.”

            “ _WHAT?_ ”

            Sam smothered more laughter as Cas looked over at Dean curiously. Dean kept his eyes firmly fixed on the knot of the angel’s tie. He could feel his cheeks heating up. Why the hell were his cheeks heating up?

            “I’m sorry,” Sam said, “but it doesn’t look like there’s any exercises here you two can’t do. It’s all pretty PG stuff.”

            Dean sighed in relief.

            “You just may have to act more... in love.”

            “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

            “Hold hands. Smile at each other. Talk about your life together.” Sam paused for a moment. “Hey, I know it’s not what you thought you were getting into, but it’s no different from any other mission. We’re world class liars. You two can do this, Dean. I know you can.”

            “Yeah, whatever.” Dean hesitated, then added, “Thanks, Sam,” before hanging up.

            Cas glanced his way with that same worried expression on his face, that same look that made him feel like a wild animal. Dean felt a weight in his stomach like an anvil coated in poison. He didn’t have the words to make it better, the words to apologize. He couldn’t think of anything that could fix the situation and make Cas stop looking at him like he was shattering into a million pieces.

            “Are you okay?” Cas asked, soft.

            “Yeah,” Dean lied. He ignored the look he got in return. “We should... I should get some sleep.”

            “I’ll watch over you.”

            Dean almost laughed. He had no way to say no to that now. “Yeah, all right.” He hesitated a moment and then rolled under the covers fully dressed. His belt buckle dug uncomfortably into his stomach but he closed his eyes tight against the pain. He was all too aware of Cas standing over him, watching, waiting. And he hated that it almost felt all right.

 

Cas did his best not to hear Dean’s thoughts throughout the night but it was hard when his thoughts were about him. It didn’t take an angel to figure out Dean wasn’t asleep – he kept shifting, moving, grunting, and grumbling – but Cas didn’t let on that he’d noticed. He just stayed by the side of the bed, staring at the wall, and wishing the night would go by faster. The metal cuff rubbed against his wrist, knocked against his bones, and he wanted it gone. A snap of his fingers could do that. It could also blow their cover.

            He hated the thoughts that swirled through Dean’s head. The panic, the shame, the sadness. He mostly just saw the moment Dr. Magnusson said _married_ on repeat but when Dean’s thoughts shifted quickly, Cas caught glimpses of memories that Dean had buried. A beaming teenage boy under the bleachers. A bearded twenty year-old at a bar. A smile here, a flirt there. And through it all, a desperate urge not to back away as he did just that.

            Cas sat on the edge of the bed when Dean finally settled. Cas counted the knots in the wooden walls, catalogued the look of their room. He wanted to figure this case out as soon as he could, solve it all so that he wouldn’t have to stand there, steeping in Dean’s pain, for any longer.

            Dean woke with a start in the middle of the night and Cas reached out to touch his shoulder. Involuntarily, he caught a hard flash of the memory: John in Dean’s face. Dean pressed up against a wall. John stinking of whiskey. And the burned, branded words of _don’t make life any harder than it already is_. Cas ached. He wished with just a touch of his fingers he could lift the pain.

            “Cas,” Dean grumbled sleepily.

            “Yes, Dean?”

            Dean shuffled to the other end of the bed, the handcuff pulling, and Cas frowned. He shifted onto the bed himself, trying to keep his arm from dislocating as he heard it was not a pleasant experience, and asked, “Dean?”

            “Lie down,” he grumbled. “Try to shut your eyes or whatever the hell angels do to recharge.”

            Cas didn’t think giving a speech on how angels “recharged” would be the right move so he silently lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling. Slowly, Dean’s breath evened out again and Cas could hear his own heartbeat better than Dean’s exhales.

            Cas wanted to reach out and stroke Dean’s back, tell him everything was going to be okay, but he still wasn’t sure he understood anything at all. Dean needed help, that much was obvious, but Dean had needed help since the day Cas had pulled him out of hell. Since before that. And Cas was certain by now, after years of trying, that he wasn’t the one who could help him. That all he really did was make things worse.

            So as Dean slept, Cas considered the many ways he could leave without blowing Dean’s cover or getting him kicked out of the retreat. All of them seemed far-fetched or like a good way to exhaust his magic completely. He shook the cuffs absently, wishing he could give Dean even that little relief, but he wasn’t sure he could get them back on. And what then? What would they say? He didn’t want the doctors to force couple questions on Dean, to have them try to make them work out their issues. Did they have issues? Of course. But did they need someone who thought they were married to solve them? Not at all.

           

The morning came too fast and too slow. Dean woke with the aching sensation that he hadn’t slept. His face felt sticky and red still and he needed a long, hot shower. A long, hot shower that he had no chance of taking alone. He felt the heat of Castiel at his back – a ghost sensation as they weren’t touching – and it made him sick and warm all at once.

            Dean pushed himself into a sitting position and said, “Let’s do this shit.”

            Cas didn’t reply. Dean kind of didn’t want him to.

            They headed to breakfast in relative silence and Dean catalogued every thought he’d had about Castiel the previous night. None of them had been inappropriate, he was sure. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked around at the ballroom which was now covered in white tables.

            “There are assigned seats,” Jennifer said, appearing from seemingly nowhere. “Look for your names!”

            “Awesome,” Dean grumbled as they started through the maze of tables. A few other couples were up, looking peachy and cheery in the early morning light. Only a couple of them looked like they did – dead on their feet, tired, unhappy, angry – and Dean was glad that at least he wasn’t alone in being pissed at Dr. Magnusson for the handcuff situation.

            “Dean.” Cas touched his shoulder and showed him their place cards. They sat down together and picked their way through breakfast while making awkward small talk with the other couples there. Everyone seemed touchy this morning, even the ones with smiles on their faces. Dean spared a thought for the case – had another body shown up? – but dismissed it. It always took at least a week, sometimes two, for a body to show up at the retreat. They hoped to stop this monster before anyone died.

            Breakfast passed and everyone was sent back to their rooms to “clean up.” Dean shuffled into their small bathroom and Cas shuffled with him, pressing up against the sink as Dean brushed his teeth. Dean looked up at him after he spit and said, “We’ve talked about this. Personal space, dude.”

            Cas smiled a little. “Not much I can do about that.”

            Dean almost laughed, his lips twitching upwards as he looked into the angel’s blue eyes. His breath almost caught at the lightness there, the genuine affection. Dean wasn’t used to affection. Didn’t like it. He spit into the sink again.

            “Should we get our story straight?” Cas asked.

            “Don’t think we’re gonna be getting anything straight,” Dean mumbled as he rinsed out his mouth. Then he added, “What do you mean?”

            Cas shrugged. “How long have we been married? Do we have any kids? What’s our house look like? Do we have a dog?”

            Dean narrowed his eyes to try to hide the fact that his heart was pounding. He shrugged as casually as possible, trying not to let their arms brush up against each other in the small space. “We’ve been married three years but known each other for almost nine. No kids. One of those stupid white picket fence deals and you have your bees, which I hate.”

            “I don’t think anyone will believe you live in a white picket fence house.”

            Dean shot him a look. “I’m wearing a goddamn button up shirt and I’m handcuffed to you. I think we’ll do fine.”

            Cas smiled again and Dean tried his best not to let it get to him, not to let Cas soften him. Disaster case or not, he was still mad at Cas for leaving them to do who-the-fuck-knows-what, who-the-fuck-knows-where. And pretending to be married, badly married, wasn’t going to stop him from being pissed.

            Dean finished with his morning routine the best he could. He decided against shaving, thinking maybe that while his right hand was handcuffed to Cas’ left, handling a blade next to his throat may not be the best idea. Although, it could get him out of the whole thing. They straightened out their clothes from yesterday and headed outside where they’d been told to meet Dr. Lehan.

            Dr. Lehan stood among sets of plastic chairs. In three rows, two plastic chairs faced each other with nothing between them. She smiled and told them to take a seat, which they did.

            Dean tried not to feel awkward about their knees and thighs touching. They had to sit so close because of the cuffs. He avoided Cas’ eyes and watched Dr. Lehan make her rounds. “What do you think?” he asked when the heat of Cas’ thigh against his own started to get uncomfortable and distracting. “Dr. Lehan?”

            “Human,” Cas said, calm as ever. Dean kind of hated him for it. Then Cas’ blue eyes found his, concerned. “Can you do this?” he asked. “I... I wasn’t trying to but last night, when you were thinking, I saw—”

            Dean’s heartbeat picked up and he swallowed it. “It doesn’t matter.”

            “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Cas whispered. “There’s never been anything wrong with you.”

            Dean felt the tears in his eyes and looked away quickly, his breath coming heavily as he stared at the manicured lawn. If there was such things as a murderous monster that also had a thing for lawn care, Dean would know exactly what they were looking for.

            “Looks like we’re all here,” Dr. Lehan said and Dean was grateful for an excuse to look anywhere but Cas. “Today’s exercise is very simple and might not seem like much but the top marriage counsellors in the world swear by it. All you have to do is take your partner’s hands and stare into their eyes.”

            Dean felt frozen. Cas’ fingers tickled his palm and Dean forced himself to breathe, to not burst into tears. _There’s nothing wrong with you_. Well, he knew that was a lie. He was a deeply flawed angelic vessel that had been to hell, tortured souls, and even bore the Mark of Cain. He was pretty sure he was the poster child for having things wrong with you.

            Cas’ hand clasped around his own and then he touched the other hand, the non-handcuffed hand, and Dean almost jolted back. “Dean,” Cas cajoled, “we need to do this. For the cover.”

            “Right.” Dean cleared his throat and took Cas’ hand. He squeezed too hard, he knew it, but didn’t let up. Cas grunted but didn’t complain.

            Then, slowly, Dean raised his eyes from the grass to meet Cas’ gaze. His blue eyes blinked, wide and curious, worried and scared. And Dean forced himself to smile, just a little, because he didn’t want Cas to be worried about him. He had that problem. Whenever no one was worried about him, he craved the attention but as soon as someone showed him affection, he brushed it off like it was nothing.

            Cas squeezed his hand a little tighter, reassuring, and smiled. Dean felt his own smile relax, grow less strained.

            Holding eye contact for a minute, two minutes, three? Nothing. Dean could do that in his sleep. He’d had a staring contest with the Devil himself. But ten minutes? Twenty? The time dragged on and Dean got uncomfortable in more ways than one. Sure, the height of summer in dress clothes on a plastic lawn chair was uncomfortable, but holding your best friend’s hands while staring into his eyes and having your thighs rub together with every slight shift in position? That was a new level of uncomfortable. That was Jane Massey giving him a hand job in the bleachers of his high school pep rally uncomfortable.

            Cas snorted.

            “What?”

            “Quite the pep rally.”

            “Get out of my head,” Dean snapped, feeling himself blush.

            Cas frowned and they lost eye contact for a moment. Dean wasn’t sure why it made him panic, why it felt like he’d lost something, but it did. He searched for Cas’ eyes and when he got them again, he felt like he wouldn’t survive letting them go at the end of the exercise. But that was ridiculous. And Cas could probably hear him being ridiculous.

            Dean’s body started to cramp in new and interesting ways. He screwed up his face and shifted a bit forward in the chair, a bit back, tried not to lose eye contact.

            “Stiff?” Cas said.

            “What?” Dean blurted, too loud.

            Cas frowned. “Your muscles.”

            Dean felt his cheeks heat and he wanted to, needed to, look away. But he didn’t. He held Cas’ blue-eyed gaze and felt safe. Stupid. He was in a dumb exercise not a teen rom-com from hell. He wondered, absently, if maybe he’d slipped into a Gabriel reality and Cas’ brother was fucking with him.

            “Here.”

            Dean felt a sudden surge of warm energy in the palms of his hands. The heat spread throughout his body, tingling, and all his sore muscles relaxed. He instantly felt calmer, more at ease, less like he’d been sitting in a plastic lawn chair for an hour. “Thanks,” he breathed.

            Cas smiled. Dean wondered if it was always this easy to make Cas smile or if maybe Cas smiled for him, because he knew he was uncomfortable, because he _knew_.

            “Nothing wrong,” Cas repeated. He gripped Dean’s hand tighter before Dean even knew he was about to pull away. His smile softened even more, if possible, and Dean felt the urge to cry come back with a vengeance. But he knew he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t cry until the handcuffs came off and he was finally alone. “All of Chuck’s creations are beautiful exactly how they are.”

            “You’re calling me beautiful now?”

            “Well.” Dean thought maybe Cas blushed, maybe a bit. “I am your husband.”

            Dean forced himself to snort but couldn’t find the humour in it. He thought maybe Cas’ eyes were sparkling, maybe his smile looked a bit more genuine. He focused on the feel of Cas’ smooth palms against his callused ones and he ached for the knowledge of what it would be like to be soft, to have no past to roughen you. He wondered about the white picket fence house and Cas’ bees and having two-point-five children like he’d always told Sammy they would never have, couldn’t have, because they were hunters. But his mom had gotten it. For only a few years, sure, but he’d never promised his child to a demon so maybe it’d be okay.

            Sometime during these thoughts, he became aware that Cas could see the fantasy in his head. The house and the kids and him and Cas curled up in a bedroom upstairs listening to the kids make them breakfast on their anniversary. And he hoped Cas knew that he was just a placeholder in this fantasy, just the closest face, and maybe part of him hoped that Cas didn’t know that, that Cas thought this was the real future.

            Dean remembered he needed to breathe with a start and broke eye contact with a slight gasp. Cas chuckled and circled his thumb against his palm.

            “How are you all feeling?” Dr. Lehan said.

            Murmured noises of assent replied to her, all fuzzy and distant. Dean felt a stab of jealousy knowing the others felt the way he did, that they were having the same experience, maybe a _better_ experience since they were actually married.

            “I want you to let go now. Look away. Shuffle so you’re not touching.”

            The noise of movement surrounded them but neither Dean nor Cas moved an inch. Dean knew his emotions reflected Cas’ – the sudden worry, the desperate need not to lose this quiet. But then Dr. Lehan cleared her throat in their direction and they turned their chairs so the handcuffs stretched out between them.

            Just as Dean had expected, the connection snapped. Without Cas touching him, he felt numb and empty and like he had blown the whole thing out of proportion. He was suddenly beyond embarrassed that he had fantasized about a typical life with Cas. That Cas _knew_. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on what the doctor was saying, what she was trying to explain. And when he caught onto her words, he almost laughed.

            She said they should feel the same before and after touching their partner. That physical touch, eye contact, shouldn’t be what defined them as a couple or kept them together. Their love should be just as strong now as it was mere seconds ago.

            And Dean’s wasn’t. Dean couldn’t bring back those thoughts about Cas without touching him. He was probably just touch starved.

            He raised his eyes and saw Cas watching him again. And that worry annoyed him again. God. He really needed to call Sam, get them out of there, because he wasn’t going to be able to stand another second like this.

            Dr. Lehan continued to speak and Dean ignored her. Soon, she gestured for them to stand and they fell into line behind her. As Cas came close again, his arm brushing Dean’s, their wrists clanging together, he said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

            Dean shot him his coldest look. “Don’t read too much into it.”

            When Cas shut up, it felt a little like victory and a lot like a mistake.

 

The afternoon consisted of two things – therapy and exercise. The therapy was easy enough to fake. Dean had enough problems with him when they weren’t pretending to be married for them to be going to couple’s therapy. He ranted about how Cas was always gone, how he never told him anything, and how he had betrayed him time and time again. Of course, the therapist probably thought Cas was cheating and not making deals with the literal Devil but Cas kept his mouth shut. When the therapist asked him to explain, he shook his head. When she asked him to say why he wouldn’t explain, he said, “Dean wouldn’t understand.”

            That had gotten a new rant and their time had run out too quickly to keep going. They moved onto the next task with Dean fuming and Cas awkwardly quiet. This wasn’t the time or the place to tell Dean about heaven. Cas knew that. They had a monster to catch and whatever the hell was going on with Dean to fix. There was no room for Cas’ problems.

            The whole afternoon was filled with “team building exercises” which really just meant convoluted playground games. They stumbled through a three-legged race, did duck-duck-goose in pairs, tripped over their own feet during a game of kickball, and even had to jump hurdles handcuffed.

            By the time they were sent back to their hotel rooms to clean up, they were sweaty, tired, and covered in red dirt. Cas did his best to brush off the dirt but he felt like his whole vessel was covered in the stuff. They’d slipped and tripped and broken skin. They smelled like a dumpster full of diapers and didn’t look much better. As Cas surveyed his clothes, he noticed several tears and sighed to himself.

            Dean tried to pull him over to the bed but Cas said, “No. We have to shower, Dean.”

            “What? We?”

            Cas tugged on the cuffs and raised an eyebrow.

            “No. No way. Not happening.”

            Cas sighed. “We look like homeless people.”

            “Well, homeless people can still catch monsters.”

            Cas bit his bottom lip as he stared at Dean. “I’m going to shower,” he said finally. “You can stand on the other side of the curtain and close your eyes if you want to, but I’m not going around smelling like a trash fire for the next week.”

            Dean sighed, rolled his eyes, and walked towards the bathroom. Cas stepped into the tub and then pulled the curtain to cover Dean’s face. It was a thin, blue thing but Dean could close his eyes. With a snap of his fingers, Cas magicked his clothes off and turned the shower on hot. As soon as the water touched his skin, he groaned.

            Cas did his best to clean himself with one hand. It had only been a day but he felt like it had been weeks since he’d been clean. Sighing, he remembered his days on the street, his days in purgatory. He had gone literal weeks with a shower before, a hardship he did not miss.

            “Hey, watch it,” Dean grumbled.

            Cas spared a glance to the curtain, to his cuffed hand hanging half out of the tub. “What?” he said.

            “You’re getting water everywhere.”

            “It’s a shower, Dean.”

            “Doesn’t the water usually stay _inside_ the shower?”

            “When the curtain’s closed, maybe.” Cas tried to keep the sigh out of his voice. He had dealt with Dean’s fury all afternoon long. Certainly he deserved the peace and quiet while he stood under hot water, feeling it relax his muscles and sting his cuts. He brushed his fingers over his thigh and healed a nasty cut from the slide into home base.

            Dean pulled on the cuff and Cas stumbled a bit. As he caught his balance, Dean pulled back the curtain and stepped into the shower. Cas gave him a wide-eyed but silent look as water sprayed down around him, soaking Dean’s clothes.

            “What the hell dude?” Dean covered his eyes with a hand. “Why are you _naked_?”

            “It’s a shower, Dean.” Cas snapped his fingers and Dean’s clothes disappeared as well.

            “ _Dude._ ”

            “Do you want your clothes to get soaked? Do you even want to stay in them?” Cas scrubbed the soap down his arm as he did his very best to keep his eyes off of Dean. But it was hard with those glistening muscles being splattered with water, with the slight blush creeping up Dean’s neck. Cas licked his lips and looked towards his own soapy skin. “We’re disgusting after today.”

            “Yeah.” Dean reached forward and Cas flinched away. As Dean squeezed shampoo onto his hand, he said, “Do you think that’s gonna be a regular thing? All the running?”

            Cas shrugged even though he knew Dean was trying just as hard as he was to avert his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat against his ribcage, like it was a live thing trying to get out. His stomach twisted as he remembered the leviathans clawing at his insides. To wash it all away, Cas tilted his head back, sending shampooed rivulets down his cheeks. He felt it sting his eyes.

            “You’re gonna go blind like that,” Dean said.

            Cas opened his eyes under the water and then shook his head. When he looked at Dean again, his whole body tensed. Dean had given up the pretense when he thought Cas wasn’t looking. Because now Dean was looking everywhere – his eyes following the curves of Cas’ muscles, lingering on the scars of his vessel’s body, and dipping low across his stomach. He looked like he was trying to memorize everything, catalogue it and keep it.

            Cas felt arousal pool in his belly and fought to keep it down. Biting his lip, he forced himself to look away from Dean, from Dean’s eyes on him, from the obvious hunger in the other man’s gaze. It wasn’t about _him_. Dean had made that quite clear. It was about all the impulses he had hidden away for his whole life, all the things he had never gotten to do no matter how much he wanted to. Cas wasn’t Cas. He was a physical marker for every man Dean hadn’t gotten to kiss. And now Cas was being remembered, catalogued, for those late nights when Dean didn’t want to think about the girls in his magazines.

            Dean coughed and Cas looked up. Dean’s eyes were no longer on his body but on both their feet.

            “Pass the soap?” Dean said.

            Cas handed it over despite the fact that he’d only really cleaned his chest. He stepped back a bit, wanting more room between their bodies, but the faucet hit the back of his leg. Hissing, Cas focused his magic inwards to heal the bruise before it formed and closed his eyes again. Closed eyes felt safer.

            But closed eyes also felt impossible. Because a mere foot from him, Dean was soaping up his body and humming some old rock song Cas couldn’t quite name. He opened one eye to see soapy rivulets flood down Dean’s chest, pool in the V of his hips, and then snake downwards. Cas didn’t want to let his eyes drop further, not when he was already fighting the signs of arousal that would be all too obvious in the small space, but he couldn’t help but follow the dripping water down the length of Dean’s flaccid cock.

            Cas closed his eyes around the image, kept it safe in the back of his head, and then swallowed all his inappropriate thoughts. He felt shaky, unsteady. He felt things he hadn’t felt before as an angel. He had thought he was going to have the most trouble helping Dean, trying to get him through this, but now he knew it was more than that. Was this what everyone had meant? When they told him he was too close to the humans in his charge? That he was in love with humanity? Did they mean that he was too close to Dean, specifically? That he was in love with Dean?

            Dean cleared his throat.

            Cas met his eyes and took the offered soap. He tried not to think of anything as he quickly washed the rest of his body, tried not to think about how Dean was looking at him. Tried to think even less about those moments when he pulled accidentally on the handcuffs and Dean’s fingers brushed his skin in all kinds of places he could only have imagined being touched by him.

            “Cas,” Dean said suddenly.

            Cas looked up, curious, and Dean placed the palm of his hand on Cas’ stomach. Their eyes met and Cas asked a thousand questions in his eyes, said a thousand warnings. But Dean’s fingers only brushed against the skin below his belly button, soft and slow, like all the things that Dean Winchester wasn’t.

            “Do you not feel that?”

            Cas swallowed the urge to immediately say yes. “Feel what?”

            “The scar.”

            Cas looked down. Sure enough, right under Dean’s fingers was a large, puckered scar. “No,” Cas said. “I didn’t.” He carefully removed Dean’s hand from his skin and pressed his own fingers to the cut. With a spark of white heat, the mark was gone.

            “Are we clean yet?” Dean said.

            “Yeah,” Cas said. “Yeah, I guess.” But he didn’t move.

            Dean didn’t move either. “How are we gonna explain how we got changed?”

            Cas shrugged. “Immense skill. Perhaps torn clothing and a hotel sewing kit.”

            Dean snorted. “So, what? All those exercises really did the trick and we just tore each other’s clothes off the moment we got back to the room?”

            Cas looked away, suddenly desperate to get out of the shower. The water was only half on him and he was getting cold and if Dean looked down... well, if Dean looked down they certainly wouldn’t be friends anymore.

            Realizing what he had said, Dean pulled the curtain back and stepped out into the small bathroom. If anything, outside the tub was worse. The space was small and cramped, most of the floor covered by the sink and the toilet and the hamper. Their bodies bumped against each other, thighs touching, fingers brushing together, chests bumping.

            “Damn it, Cas,” Dean growled. “Just magick us dry and get our clothes on.”

            Cas didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of that immediately. Well, he did but he was suddenly paranoid that Dean could hear his thoughts as well as he could hear Dean’s. And Dean knowing that Cas had been staring at his ass, well. Cas snapped his fingers and they were dry and clothed. Dean let out a long, heavy breath.

            “Dinner?” Dean said, not looking at Cas.

            Cas felt the urge to swallow his entire body so he wouldn’t exist anymore. And wouldn’t that be a trick? He could just leave his vessel and go back to heaven and leave Dean handcuffed to a dead body. That would solve a lot of his current problems, he was sure.

            “Yeah,” Cas managed. “Dinner.”

            And as soon as they exited the bathroom, it was like Dean had forgotten. He acted cold and mad again like nothing was okay. And Cas acted the same. He kept his mouth shut, swallowed his annoyance, and pretended he couldn’t feel his beating heart against his chest. He pretended he wasn’t replaying memories of Dean’s fingers on his stomach, of Dean’s eyes on him, of soap on Dean’s naked body. He shifted in his chair, fumbled passing a pasta dish, and was generally a disaster throughout dinner. If Dean noticed the change, he didn’t let on.

 

Dean didn’t think he’d sleep through the night but miraculously he did. The memories of the shower and Cas’ body heat didn’t distract him for long. Running around all afternoon had taken it out of him. Too much fresh air. Whatever Sam’s explanation was for exhaustion after a hunt. All that crap.

            And in the morning, he could almost pretend nothing was wrong at all. He got out of bed with a bleary Cas who offered him no more than a thin smile and Dean had to look away. He knew the shower didn’t mean anything to Cas. Cas had been dirty and he wanted to be clean. End of story. Forget that Dean had joined him, touched his stomach, memorized every curve of his smooth muscles. For a split second, Dean’s mind slipped into thoughts of what those thighs could do wrapped around his head but he brushed it off quick. Hopefully quick enough.

            He got through his whole morning routine without looking at Cas twice. Then, heading for the door, he spotted Cas out of the corner of his eye. And the sight caught him off guard. “You have stubble,” Dean said.

            Cas’ lips quirked upwards. “Yeah. I have to shave too, you know.”

            “Sure, but.” Dean cut himself off. He didn’t have the words to explain, to ask, to say it. Cas’ stubble was so much thicker than his after two days and its darkness perfectly outlined the strong set of his jaw. “I didn’t think.”

            “You rarely do.”

            “Shut up.” Dean felt himself smiling around the words. And as he stared, he realized just how close he and Cas were standing. Somehow, the proximity the cuffs forced on them was becoming natural, normal. Maybe he and Cas had never been much for personal space anyways.

            “Breakfast?” Cas prompted.

            “Yeah,” Dean said but he didn’t move. Without thinking, he raised shaky fingers to Cas’ face and rubbed his knuckles over his stubble. His breath caught at the feeling and he licked his lips.

            Cas met his eyes, curious and gentle. And Dean wondered how easy it would be, how _weird_ it would be, if he just moved forward and kissed him. Just to feel it. Just to know what it would be like to have that stubble against his lips instead of his fingers. It scratched his palm and he wondered if it would scratch his lips or maybe tickle.

            “Dean?” Cas said.

            Dean swallowed hard and removed his hand. “Sorry.” And he didn’t let himself say another word, didn’t look at Cas as he made his way out of the room.

            They reached the breakfast room and a new circle of hell at the same time. Dean groaned as he saw the sign announcing it was a “therapy breakfast.” Each of the doctors were standing at a food station, questioning couples before serving them their food. Dean scanned the selection of food and then said, “Can we just skip the meal?”

            “I could,” Cas said, “but I’m not sure if that would agree with you.”

            Dean wanted to argue but then his stomach grumbled. With another sigh, he headed towards the nearest station and a smiling Dr. Magnusson. Dean grabbed an empty plate and held it out in a challenging silence, just daring this asshole to say something to him, ask him something. He couldn’t wait until the case really got going and he could hit something.

            “You’re looking well this morning,” Dr. Magnusson said, making no move to serve the eggs in front of him. His eyes slid over to Cas. “Both of you look very clean.”

            Dean cocked an eyebrow.

            “It’s nice to see you boys getting along better.”

            “Well, the physical part of our relationship was never the problem,” Dean bit out. Cas coughed, choking on his own saliva, and Dean shot him a look out of the corner of his eye.

            Dr. Magnusson nodded, his therapist smile still in place. “Then your question is simple. Name one thing you love about your partner that isn’t physical.”

            Dean blinked. He looked at Cas.

            Cas looked back.

            “Certainly you two are together for more than your good looks?” Dr. Magnusson said. “Rarely do people get married based on physical affection alone. And if they do, they rarely come to therapy when it starts to fall apart.”

            “Dean’s a good man,” Cas said, not looking away from Dean. “He struggles with so many things but he always makes the choice he thinks is best. He protects the people he loves and he worries he’s not doing enough. I couldn’t ask for better.”

            Dean cleared his throat and looked away.

            “And you, Dean? What do you love about Cas?”

            “Cas...” Dean swallowed hard and tried to fight the urge to blush. Cas was wrong, of course Cas was wrong, but being thought of that way still made him feel warm and fuzzy and like he was in a chick flick. “Cas is my best friend. No matter what happens, I know he’s got my back. He’s the one person in my life who I know cares about me because he wants to and not because he has to.”

            Dr. Magnusson slid his eyes between them and said, “Very good then.” He put a healthy scoop of scrambled eggs on both their plates.

            Dean moved on to the next station with Dr. Lehan. He hated to think what she might want to know but the smell of sausages was too good to give up. Plus, the last one hadn’t been that bad. It wasn’t like Cas didn’t _know_ he was Dean’s best friend.

            “Good morning,” she said. “For the sausages, you have to tell your partner one thing you’ve been afraid to tell them.”

            Dean felt his stomach grumble even as it twisted into a knot. He swallowed hard as he looked at the sausages, wondering if the meat and grease was worth it.

            Then Cas blurted, “I’ve been seeing my family.”

            “What?” Dean met his eyes, confused.

            Cas’ eyes were wide and blue and scared. “That’s where I’ve been. I’ve been seeing my family. They... we’ve been getting along better.”

            “Cas, they—” Dean bit down on everything he wanted to say as rage covered up his embarrassment. He couldn’t exactly say the things he wanted to say, needed to say, in front of Dr. Lehan. Which was probably why Cas had chosen to say it now. After taking a deep breath, Dean ground out, “We’ve talked about this. Your family is a bunch of dicks. They don’t like me and they don’t accept you. Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep going back to them when it ends the same way every time?”

            “Because they’re my family.”

            “I’m your family!” Dean exhaled heavily and set down his plate so he could press his hand to his mouth. He felt people looking their way, so he lowered his voice. “They’re not going to change. I don’t want... I hate seeing them hurt you over and over again.”

            “I’m a big boy, Dean. I can take care of myself.”

            Dean shook his head and looked away. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not here and potentially not ever.

            “Dean,” Dr. Lehan prompted. “Is there anything you’ve been afraid to tell Cas?”

            There were plenty of things Dean was afraid to tell Cas but none he wanted to say now. None he wanted to say at all, really. And Cas had already gotten the sausages and he wasn’t going to eat them anyways, so what did it matter what Dean said? But some deep, spiteful part of Dean wanted to hurt him, wanted him to know how he felt.

            “I was relieved,” Dean said, soft. He looked down at his plate as he spoke, scared of meeting Cas’ eyes when he told him the truth. “When you were gone, when you were _really_ gone, when I thought it was forever...” Dean hoped he’d gotten the word _dead_ across well enough with really saying it. He shook his head and shrugged. “I was relieved. I thought with you gone there’d be so much less pain in my life and everything would make sense again, like it used to. I thought all my problems were gone.”

            “Were they?” Cas asked, soft.

            Dean blinked back the tears in his eyes. He didn’t know what was wrong with him these last few days. He barely cried, barely broke down, saved it all for the safety of the bunker when he did. But here he felt raw and exposed. He shook his head.

            “No,” Dean said. “No, everything was worse without you. For maybe a day the relief stayed and mixed with guilt and then everything was just shit. Maybe things made sense before you but after... Cas, every time you leave, I lose myself just a little bit more.”

            Even with the noise of the breakfast room, with the other couples talking, with the distant sounds of breakfast cooking, silence descended over them. Dean stared at his feet and tried to breathe, tried to hear himself. He felt Cas’ fingers tangle into his and squeeze. He squeezed back, wanting, hoping, hating himself just a little more.

            “I’ll try to stop leaving,” Cas whispered.

            Dean swallowed. “I’ll try not to hate your whole family.”

            Out of the corner of his eyes, Dean saw Cas crack a smile. Cas said, “Well, most of them probably deserve it.”

            Dean chuckled and held out his plate. Dr. Lehan handed over the sausages and they moved on, hands still clasped together. Dean spared a thought to how not weird it was, how normal it felt to keep Cas close. Then he brushed it away. It was an act. It was all for the mission, to catch a monster, to stop people from dying. For a minute, he’d almost forgotten there was a mission at all.

            The next therapist asked them to name their favourite physical feature of their partner. With a cheeky grin, Dean admitted it was Cas’ stubble and Cas, with surprisingly little shame, said Dean’s ass. Dean laughed and their eyes met and Dean forgot why this experience was supposed to be torturous. He was pretending to be married to his best friend. Wasn’t that supposed to be fun? Wasn’t that the thing most people wanted?

            Their answers got wild as they moved through the stations. Dean tried more to make Cas laugh rather than tell the truth because Cas’ laugh was truly a brilliant sound. A sound Dean hadn’t heard in so, _so_ long. And if he had to tell the therapists that his favourite pet name for Cas was _my angel_? If he had to pretend his favourite date nights were spent watching Netflix on the couch? If he needed people to believe he loved Cas so much that he’d end the world for him? Well. Hadn’t he already done that anyways?

            By the time they sat down to eat, Dean was starving. He shovelled food into his face as Cas played absently with his, trying to look like he was eating without actually doing it. When Dean slowed, his plate no longer stuffed with food, Cas looked over at him with the kind of unbridled affection that made Dean’s toes curl. He hated that look as much as he loved it. He hated thinking Cas cared about him.

            “Are we okay?” Cas said.

            Dean nodded. “We’re okay.”

            Cas gave him a weird look, like maybe he didn’t believe him, but said nothing more.

            And Dean knew not talking about things and all the repression was probably how they got into shit in the first place but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Wasn’t it enough at the moment that he was in literal couple’s therapy with his best friend who he may or may not be attracted to without being forced to talk out their actual real world issues? He just wanted to punch a ghost in the face and not die in the process. That couldn’t be too much to ask.

            When breakfast finished and Dean had suffered through a half hour long conversation about how hard it was to have kids with Annabelle, everyone was ushered out of the room. Dr. Magnusson led them all down a long hallway while going on about the importance of playfulness in a relationship. Dean shot Cas a look and Cas shrugged.

            Then Dr. Magnusson turned, opened a set of doors, and revealed a room filled to the brim with fluffy white pillows. He smiled at the crowd in front of him. “A good old fashioned pillow fight is exactly what the doctor ordered.” He flicked a switch and bad pop music flooded the space. “Go forth and conquer!”

            Everyone stepped awkwardly forward, wading into the sea of pillows. Dean picked up a pillow as he entered, scanning the room for hiding spots and strategic attack angles. With a look at Cas, he started to laugh at how confused the angel looked.

            “You’ve never had a pillow fight?” Dean said.

            Cas blinked at him. “I’m familiar with the concept. I have never had the opportunity to experience one bef—”

            Dean clocked him in the face with a pillow and laughed. “Well, get ready.”

            Cas quirked a smile and bent to grab a pillow. Dean started to batter him with his own pillow, not wanting to wait for him to be armed. Then he was hit in the stomach and stumbled. He hit back with a fury, laughing, not wanting to tell Cas this wasn’t a real fight, wasn’t a real war. He liked the intensity, the smile on Cas’ face, and the feathers flying everywhere.

            With one particularly hard hit, Dean sent Cas off-balance. He was only victorious for a moment before the reality of handcuffs hit him again and he went down too, landing half on top of Cas, laughing. Cas started to hit the back of his head with a pillow and Dean pressed his face into the buttons of Cas’ shirt, trying hard to breathe through his laughter.

            “Uncle, uncle,” Dean managed. He reached up and pulled the pillow from Cas’ hands. He tilted his chin up to look up at Cas, to see his determined expression, and suddenly couldn’t stop laughing. He felt Cas’ whole body tense under him, under his weight, and then release as Cas cracked a smile.

            “You look ridiculous,” Cas said.

            “I do?” Dean shifted his weight and crawled up Cas’ body to look him in the eyes. He picked a feather out of Cas’ hair and blew it into his face. “You look like a real life angel. Feathers everywhere, man.”

            “I think you look more like an angel.” Cas started to pick feathers out of Dean’s hair and off his shoulders. “If I were to accept that random feathers make someone an angel.”

            Dean smiled as he looked down at Cas. It took him only a moment to realize that they maybe weren’t in the most platonic position. After all, most of Dean’s weight was still on Cas, they were lying on the floor, and their legs were completely entangled. Dean’s eyes dropped to Cas’ lips, to the hollow of his throat, and the feathers around his shoulders.

            Before he could do anything, before he could think of doing anything, he was hit with a pillow from behind. Dean ducked his head instinctively, his face ending up in the crook of Cas’ shoulder. As he was battered with a pillow, he felt Cas scramble for a pillow and start fighting back.

            Dean rolled off of him, grabbed his own pillow, and started to swat at the legs of the people attacking them. He couldn’t see them through the cascading feathers but he vowed his revenge. Eventually, they got back to their feet and managed to fight off their attackers.

            Backs against a wall, Dean turned his head to Cas and said, “How do you want to win this things?”

            Cas snorted. “I don’t think winning is the goal, Dean.”

            “What’s the goal then?”

            “To have fun.”

            “I’d have more fun if we won.”

            Cas’ smile twisted as he tried to hide it but Dean saw the moment he gave in. He saw it in the sparkle of Cas’ eyes, heard it in the humour of his voice. “All right,” Cas said. He leaned in as if they weren’t close enough, as if touching their foreheads together would make their plans more secret. Dean felt his whole body buzz as Cas said, “What’s the best plan to take out the others?”

            “We go in fast and hard. Take no prisoners.”

            “A true Dean Winchester plan,” he said, “as it lacks all finesse.”

            “Fuck you. I’m full of finesse.”

            Cas laughed and Dean was overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him, to taste that smile, to feel it against his lips. But he didn’t because they were in a pillow fight war, surrounded by people, and Cas was still just humouring him, trying to protect him. Dean didn’t know exactly how far Cas would go to help him through this but he doubted actually kissing him would be part of it.

            “What’s your plan then?” Dean asked, fighting to keep his voice steady even as he studied the curve of Cas’ lips.

            “Simple.” If possible, Cas shifted closer. Dean could feel his handcuffed hand brushing against his thigh, feel Cas’ fingers against his jeans. Cas’ breath was hot in his ear, his lips brushing his skin. “We take out the nearest people first. Get them to go down into the pillows. We keep low, hide in the feathers, take them out two at a time. It’s the only way.”

            “Sneak attack?” Dean said and he knew he’d lost all control of his voice, of his body. His knees shook. “That’s your brilliant plan?”

            “It’s better than yours.”

            Dean shook his head, trying not to smile. “Fine,” he whispered. He couldn’t resist turning his face so that his lips ghosted over Cas’ ear. “But if we’re gonna do it slow, we’re still gonna do it rough.”

            Dean could have sworn Cas shuddered.

            “Deal,” Cas hissed.

            Dean let himself have that moment. Cas’ shaky voice in his ear, his lips so close to his skin, their bodies practically pressed together. He smiled at it all, at how easy it seemed to be, then broke it all by saying, “Let’s go.”

            They pulled apart and crept forward into the massive wave of feathers. They took out the first couple with swats to the back of the knee, sending them tumbling into the floor of pillows. Another couple hit them from behind and they whirled, swatting at them with all they had. Feathers flew. People fell. Cas stumbled and Dean pulled him up by the arm.

            Two by two, the other couples fell to their war of feathers. They fell laughing and curled into each other. They fell like people made for each other, people who would make it through this retreat stronger. And as Dean made pillows burst around their heads, as he fought like his life depended on it, he felt a tug on his heartstrings. He couldn’t let these people die, couldn’t let them leave this world without remembering they loved each other. They didn’t deserve that.

            It only took a few minutes to win. Then Dean turned to look at Cas, ready to ask what now. But Cas beat him to it by hitting him in the face with a pillow. Dean resisted the urge to fight back and instead grabbed Cas’ arm as he fell backwards. He practically yanked the angel on top of him and grunted as the full weight of him landed on his stomach.

            Cas smiled down at him. “The great Dean Winchester and you fall so easily?”

            “Easier than you’d expect,” Dean whispered, not thinking.

            Something odd and glassy came over Cas’ eyes and Dean reached up to rub his fingers against Cas’ stubble again. He bit his bottom lip. He knew he couldn’t kiss Cas, couldn’t ask for it, couldn’t want it, but it didn’t stop him from imagining. And his imagination had gotten very good after years of denying himself the things he wanted.

            “As you can all see,” Dr. Magnusson said, pulling Dean from his reverie, “there are benefits to not taking everything so seriously. You’re young and you’re in love. Not everything has to be the apocalypse.”

            Cas rolled off Dean and lay down beside him. Dean stared at the ceiling and tried to pretend his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest.

            “Now, if you’ll all get up – yes, I know you don’t want to – it is time for formal therapy sessions.” A course of groans went up but Dr. Magnusson continued, “Unfortunately, not all problems can be solved by pillow fights. On your feet, please.”

            Dean and Cas made their way to their feet, not looking at each other. Dean stole a glance out of the corner of his eye as Cas brushed feathers off his shoulders. On impulse, Dean took Cas’ hand in his again and Cas gave him a somewhat blank look, the kind that reminded Dean angels weren’t built quite like humans. He let their fingers slip away from each other and headed to therapy with a heavy heart.

 

Cas made it through therapy without slipping – barely. He kept looking at Dean’s hands, at his lips, and not listening to a word that he was saying. It was a feeling that was all but new to Cas. Sure, he’d _had_ sex before but he wasn’t sure he’d ever really been attracted to anyone, ever really looked at anyone and thought _hot damn_. That was changing right now and Cas was losing it.

            As they made their way back to their room at the end of the day, Dean laughed about how Dr. Lehan had thought they had “pent up sexual tension” and “needed to relax around each other.” Cas thought maybe his laughter sounded strange, maybe he was too focused on that exact moment out of the hours they had spent talking, but he wasn’t in the mood to overanalyze it. He was in the mood to lie down on the bed and close his eyes and pretend he could stop being conscious as easily as a human. Of course, with the handcuffs, his plans only worked if Dean felt the same.

            They settled on the side of the bed to take off their shoes. It was almost routine now. Just a couple of days and being handcuffed together felt like the norm, felt like something they dealt with all the time. Cas liked it and he hated it. He liked the back of his hand brushing with Dean’s, how easy it was for them to comfort each other with a squeeze, but he hated the constant proximity and the lack of privacy. Certainly these therapists were aware that time apart was just as important for humans as time together? Couples grew stronger apart. Cas was sure he had read or heard that somewhere or maybe he was quoting a Kardashian.

            “Early night?” Dean suggested, reading Cas’ mind.

            Cas was just about to nod when the phone rang. Dean looked his way, curious, and Cas reached for the handset. “Hello?” he said.

            “Hey, Cas,” Sam said. “How’s it going?”

            “I’m fine.”

            “Well, that’s good, Cas, but I kinda meant the case.”

            “The case. Right.” Cas shot Dean a look, one he hope conveyed exactly how little he had thought about the case since they arrived. Dean scrunched up his face but said nothing. “The case is going... well.”

            “Yeah? Do you know what you’re dealing with yet?”

            “Not exactly. I think we can safely say what we’re not dealing with.”

            “Which would be?”

            Cas gave Dean a wide-eyed stare and Dean stared back, completely unhelpful. Cas searched his brain for the things he was pretty sure were not at the retreat – a list that couldn’t be too long considering they had done shit all to investigate so far. “We believe it’s not an angel,” Cas began, because that much was obvious. “There are no cold spots or flickering lights, so it’s unlikely it’s a ghost. Numerous creatures don’t match the MO, so we can rule out werewolves, ghouls, vamp—”

            “We went over all this before you left.” Sam heaved out a sigh and Cas pursed his lips at Dean, trying to convey that it was going badly. Then Sam said, “Have you found anything suspicious? Is anyone acting weird?”

            “Everyone’s acting weird, Sam. It’s a couple’s retreat for people who are moments away from getting divorced.”

            Sam sighed. “Can I talk to Dean, please?”

            Cas handed over the phone without a word. Dean took it with a sigh and said, “Yeah, Sam?” He listened for a moment, chewed on his bottom lip, then said, “Yeah. I know.” A few more seconds and, “Everything’s going fine. It’s a busy schedule. We haven’t really had a chance to—” A pause. “Fuck you. We’ll find something.” Dean stood and slammed the phone down.

            “That seemed to have gone well,” Cas said.

            Dean cracked an unkind smile. “Look who’s getting the hang of sarcasm.” He sighed. “That early night’s not gonna happen. We need something on this case before the killer strikes again or Sam calls wondering why the hell we’re not focused on the case while we’re at a couple’s retreat.”

            Cas nodded. “Where do we start?”

            “We start by breaking into the staff housing while the staff’s still at dinner.” Dean grabbed on to the handcuffs’ chain and yanked Cas to his feet. Cas stumbled a little and Dean caught him by the shoulder. “We don’t have a lookout, so I’m gonna need you to use that super angel hearing of yours to figure out when people are coming back.”

            Cas frowned. “I don’t have super angel hearing.”

            “You can hear that high-pitched dog whistle you feathered freaks think is a normal voice but not some footsteps outside a cabin?”

            Cas shrugged. “I’ll try.”

            “You’ll try.” Dean nodded his head, then shook it, and finally headed for the door.

            Cas scrambled after him and they made their way down the hallway side by side. Cas hoped they looked natural, normal, just a couple out for an evening walk. If the others saw them, would they be suspicious? Or would they be so wrapped up in their own problems that it wouldn’t matter? Cas couldn’t say for sure but as they passed doorway after doorway, he heard more than a few prayers for happiness, love, and an easy fix. He wished marriages could be healed as easy as physical wounds.

            Without running into anyone, they made it outside. The courtyard was quiet and warm, the only sound the crickets chirping in the long grass. With quick steps, they approached the staff cabin and peeked into the nearest window. Everything was empty and dark inside but there was no telling how long that would last or what other rooms may be hidden from their vantage point.

            “You hear anything?” Dean whispered.

            Cas tried. For all his angelic powers, knowing the location of every human on earth wasn’t one of them. “I think we’re clear,” he said, even though he truly had no idea.

            They made their way to the front door and Dean picked the lock. As they stepped inside, they kept their breathing shallow and their steps light. Cas spared a touch of magic to make them quieter but with the air so still, every creak of the floorboards still sounded like a gunshot.

            Dean poked his head into the first room – an open layout living room and kitchen – and then pulled Cas in after him. Together, they rummaged through drawers and stacks of therapy magazines. Nothing looked too out of place except for a small wooden cross over the mantle place. Cas spent a moment staring at it, wondering, but Dean whispered, “Plenty of people are religious. Doesn’t make them psychos.”

            Cas nodded and moved on.

            The kitchen cupboards were filled with junk food and nothing else. The cutlery was dusty and unused. The stove looked more like a fire hazard than a cooking implement.

            Next were the individual rooms. Cas listened at each door, trying to hear breathing or thoughts through the wood. No such luck. Dean picked each lock and they entered bedrooms that looked like college dorm rooms. Each one had an eclectic collection of posters, knick knacks, and books. The colour schemes ranged from a pleasant collection of blues to a violent range of rainbows and even if he’d been told his life depended on it, Cas wouldn’t have been able to guess whose room was whose.

            They found collections of psychology textbooks in each and every room. At one point, Dean paused and said, “Should they need this much reading material around when they’re running a retreat?”

            “It’s likely they just want to brush up on individual issues as clients tell them things,” Cas said as he tilted up a particularly heavy textbook on the human brain. “Although nothing they’ve done so far discounts the theory that they’re not actually licensed psychologists.”

            Dean sighed. “Does that mean we’re just dealing with psycho human killers?”

            “It’s a possibility.”

            Dean cursed under his breath. “I prefer monsters.”

            Cas had to agree but he kept his mouth shut as they moved on to the last room. He yawned as Dean picked the lock, earning him a weird look, and he shut his mouth quickly. Some human habits he had never fully gotten rid of, no matter how useless they were.

            The door swung open to reveal blackness. Whereas the other rooms had had some light, from uncovered windows or lamps left burning, this one was pitch black. Dean flicked the light switch to reveal a room painted jet black from floor to ceiling. The walls had no posters or pictures and all the surfaces were empty. The white furniture and sheets stuck out like a bright light.

            “Creepy,” Dean said.

            Cas had to agree that that one word pretty much summed up the room in its entirety. He stepped forward and opened one of the dresser drawers. It was empty as was the next and all the rest of the drawers as well. Dean pulled him over to the desk where there was nothing more to be found. He looked at Cas.

            “Perhaps no one uses this room?” Cas said.

            “Then why paint it all black?” Dean said. “Why the sheets on the bed?”

            Cas shrugged. “Maybe it’s for temporary staff. People who come and go at the peak times of the year.”

            “Shouldn’t summer be the peak time?”

            “If people didn’t keep showing up dead a few miles away, maybe.”

            Dean grunted and pulled on the cord for the blinds. They went up with a _zip_ and Dean swore. In a quick motion, he pulled them both down and then peeked over the window ledge. Cas followed suit to see three of the doctors heading their way.

            “I thought you were keeping an ear out,” Dean hissed.

            “You know I’m not actually a satellite, right?”

            “I liked you better when you didn’t understand sarcasm.”

            “Surprising.”

            “What?”

            Cas shook his head, affecting his best innocent expression. Dean cursed again and pulled the blinds back down. He eyed Cas and said, “Zap us out of here?”

            Cas blinked, surprised he hadn’t thought of that solution himself. He curled his fingers around Dean’s, closed his eyes, and focused on their room in the main building. When he opened his eyes again, there they stood, a foot away from the double bed, safe and sound.

            Dean chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Guess you are good for something.”

            “Ha ha,” Cas said, deadpan. He looked back at the bed. “Still up for an early night?”

            Dean nodded and the two of them headed over to the bed. Cas settled down on his back and let Dean pull his arm around while he settled. It was a long process – it always was – but eventually Dean stilled in the same position he always did, lying on his side with his knees curled up to his chest. Cas wondered why he didn’t just start there if he knew it worked but he was beyond questioning Dean’s motives. He was tired of overanalyzing Dean. Tired of everything, really. So Cas simply closed his eyes, focused on his unnecessary breathing, and pretended he was human enough to sleep.

 

Dean went through most of the next day on autopilot. He was exhausted for no real reason at all since the investigation hadn’t taken too long but his body felt sore, stiff, like he’d slept on a pile of rocks. So he ran through the morning’s exercises without really blinking, giving the therapists stock answers and letting muscle memory lead him through an obstacle course. Of course, his muscle memory didn’t account for Cas, which was probably why they had the worst time of all the couples.

            It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that something shocked him from his sleep-walking state. They were sitting across from a new therapist – Dr. Manning – and she had been going through basic questions that Dean was pretty sure Dr. Lehan had covered earlier. But then she said, without preamble, “How’s your sex life?”

            “What?” Dean asked. He blinked and immediately he was awake, sweaty, and panicked. An overall great way to start the mid-afternoon.

            “Your sex life,” she repeated with no hint of shame. Her brown eyes shifted from one of them to the other. “If that’s too broad of a question, perhaps you can tell me how many times a week you two engage in sexual activity?”

            Dean stared at her for a long moment. Part of him wanted to look at Cas, to meet his eyes and see if this really _was_ happening or if he’d just fallen asleep at some point and was dreaming rather vividly. But a bigger part of him knew that looking at Cas would be a mistake, a big mistake, and would give away more than he was willing to give. His heart pounded in his chest and he wished that Cas would step in, save him from this, but the angel was probably just as confused and scandalized as he was.

            “Can’t we stick with the normal questions?” Dean snapped. He tried to calm his voice, his breathing, but it wasn’t working. “Talk more about my obvious abandonment issues and how I purposefully chose a partner who wouldn’t be around so I could keep victimizing myself?”

            Dr. Manning cracked a small smile, just one corner of her dark lips twisting upwards. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’m not that kind of therapist. Although I am happy to see that you’re listening to Dr. Lehan and thinking about what she’s said to you.”

            “What kind of therapist are you then?”

            “I’m a sex therapist.” She paused a moment as if maybe that would let it sink in, as if maybe it would make more sense with a moment of silence after it. All that pause did was make Dean panic more. “My job is to evaluate your sex life and give you a space where you can safely and openly communicate about what you do and don’t like in bed. While every relationship is about more than the physical, here at Sunshine Days, we believe that the physical aspect of a relationship is just as important as the mental. And we want to help you succeed at your relationship in an overall capacity, not just a mental one.”

            Dean nodded slowly, still refusing to believe that this was actually happening to him. He tried to pinch the skin at his elbow but Cas batted his hand away, their fingers brushing together, and the spark made Dean’s stomach go wobbly.

            “So,” Dr. Manning said, probably deciding neither of them were going to speak, “I know this can be awkward for a lot of couples and I don’t want to force you to speak about anything that makes you uncomfortable. But you should know that this is a safe space and that everything you say in this room is one hundred percent confidential. So, that being said, would you like to tell me how many times a week you’re sexually active?”

            Dean risked a glance Cas’ way and saw the angel looking back at him. “We, uh...” Dean swallowed hard and shrugged. “Two or three times a week?”

            She nodded. “That’s quite a lot for a married couple that’s been having problems. Can you tell me how it feels?”

            “How it feels?” Dean echoed.

            “Do you feel like it’s a chore? Something you have to do? Or do you genuinely enjoy your time together? Would you say the physical part of your relationship is what comes naturally?”

            Dean was overly aware of how close he was sitting to Cas but there was no way to shift away from him with the cuffs on. The backs of their hands brushed together and their knees knocked against each other with every shift. Dean tried to breath at the same time he swallowed and ended up coughing.

            “I’d say it’s easier for us,” Cas said as Dean continued to cough. His voice was unnervingly steady and slower than normal, like he was testing the waters before he jumped into them. When Dean looked his way, he saw that Cas was squinting like he was trying to see through the therapist. He added, “Sometimes it’s a way to avoid a fight.”

            “I see.” Dr. Manning wrote something down on her pad. “So would you say your sexual activities are more often angry than loving?”

            “Yes?”

            She smiled. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

            Cas opened his mouth and then shut it, frowning.

            “If the case is that you two keep tumbling into bed to avoid fights, I have to say that’s not a very healthy way to deal with your issues. And it’s not a very healthy way of expressing your physical affection for one another. So perhaps now would be a good time to talk about what you like in bed, what you enjoy, and how you might be able to do those things without being angry with each other.”

            “What?” Dean said.

            “What do you and Cas do in bed that you enjoy, Dean?”

            Dean promptly regretted opening his mouth now that Dr. Manning’s attention was focused on him. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. “I... uh...” he managed. His tongue felt heavy. He wondered if maybe this was magic or the supernatural or was he really this nervous? “I like it when... I like his stubble,” Dean blurted.

            Dr. Manning blinked. “All right. What specifically about his stubble turns you on, Dean?”

            Dean opened his mouth but no words came out.

            “Cas?” she said. “Perhaps you can start us off here?”

            Cas simply stared back at her.

            After a moment, she sighed and settled back in her chair. She looked between the two of them with the strict sense of someone who knew how to control people and Dean already knew he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

            “Do you know what this hesitation tells me?” she said, actually waiting for an answer.

            Dean shook his head.

            “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a trained psychologist to see that there is a lot of unresolved sexual tension here.” She held up a hand to stop Dean from interrupting her. “If I’m wrong, that’s fine, but I believe you two don’t have sex two or three times a week. I doubt you have it once a month. And all that built up tension is turning itself into fights that you don’t resolve with sex, that you don’t resolve at all, and it’s only making things worse for you.

            “A lot of couples find that when their sex lives vanish, so does their patience with each other and it’s all about hormones. It’s about having a way to release tension that doesn’t have to be angry, that doesn’t have to include hatred. It’s about having a way to say ‘I love you’ without having to actually say the words or make a grand gesture. Sex is important to a relationship when both people in the relationship want to be having sex. I’m not saying people can’t be perfectly happy without it, that there aren’t people in non-sexual relationships who are much healthier than you two, but I am saying that you are not those people. You two have a lot of pent up energy. Why not let it out in a way that lets you have some fun?”

            Dean continued to stare blankly at her. He really couldn’t think of anything else to do.

            Luckily, or maybe unluckily, Cas cleared his throat and said, “Perhaps we haven’t been completely honest about our... sex life. We will work on that for our next session.”

            Dr. Manning smiled. “That’s good to hear. But we still have some time here today and if you’re up for it, I’d like to try something a little unconventional.”

            Dean felt Cas’ eyes on him and he slowly turned his head to meet his gaze. The questions there were obvious as were the apologies and the worries. Dean knew as well as Cas did that openly refusing to try whatever it took to fix their “marriage” might blow their cover or at least make someone suspicious as to their real motives for being there. So, with a sigh, he looked back at Dr. Manning and said, “Sure. What do you want us to do?”

            “I’m going to leave the room. There’s still ten minutes left in our session and at the end of that time, I’m going to come back and knock on the door.” She paused like that explained what she wanted them to do. When neither of them said a thing, she added, “I want you two to try kissing. Just kissing. Nothing fancy, not pushing your limits, just good old fashioned making out like a couple of teenagers, all right?”

            “All... right,” Dean managed, trying and failing not to grind his teeth.

            If possible, Dr. Manning’s smile widened even further as she hopped out of her chair. “I’ll leave you to it then.” She walked swiftly to the door and closed it behind her. Dean heard the click of a lock.

            Silence descended upon the room. Sunlight streamed through the plate glass window, making the white carpet and ivory walls shine. Abstract paintings caught the light, their turquoise colours matching the accent pillows and upholstery of the therapist’s chair. Dean felt suddenly, unnervingly, like he was on a TV set or in a movie about his life and someone was taking grand liberty with the plot line.

            “Do you think...” Dean began but then stopped himself. He swallowed hard and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Do you think they can see us here?”

            Cas looked around curiously. He seemed unnervingly calm, a calm that annoyed Dean to no end. “I don’t see any cameras,” Cas replied, his voice quiet and soft, “but Dr. Magnusson did say they would be watching us.”

            “Do you think that meant cameras or just like... I don’t know. They’re keeping an eye on us? Like observing our interactions in public?”

            “I can’t tell,” Cas said.

            Dean swallowed hard and risked a glance at Cas out of the corner of his eye. The angel was still, seated comfortably, and scanning the walls as if he had the ability to see cameras. Dean had no idea whether or not he did. “Should we... I mean, if they can see us, if they are watching...”

            “Will not kissing blow our cover?” Cas finished.

            Dean felt his heart stutter in his chest. He nodded silently.

            “It seems unethical for them to be filming us.”

            “It seems unethical for them to ask us to kiss like we’re lab monkeys.”

            “They are killing people, Dean. It makes you wonder how much they care about losing their licenses.”

            Their voices had become steadily louder but their eyes continued to search the room. Dean could feel the sweat on his palms, the slight shake of his fingers. He heard his heartbeat in his ears, roaring, rushing. “So... do we think...”

            Cas looked at him and Dean couldn’t find the heart to look away. His blue eyes were open and honest, impassive and cold, all at the same time. “It’s your call, Dean,” Cas said. “We have no way of knowing whether or not this will blow our cover. I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

            Dean swallowed hard. His eyes dipped down, lingering on Cas’ lips and the stubble that surrounded them. Almost without meaning to, he reached out and brushed his knuckles through Cas’ prickly, short beard. “You’re not...” Dean started, then tried again, “I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

            The softest of smiles slipped over Cas’ lips. “I’m an angel. I’ve lived thousands of years, occupied more than one vessel, and kissed my fair share of guys and girls. I promise you, there is very little you could do to make me feel uncomfortable.”

            Dean almost laughed. He purposefully shut down his thoughts, mentally placed doors in his brain in hopes that might work against Cas. Because if it didn’t, Cas would very clearly hear him wondering whether or not telling him he loved him would make him feel uncomfortable. If admitting he had been attracted to Cas for years would make him feel uncomfortable. If admitting he was almost one hundred percent sure there were no cameras would make him feel uncomfortable. Cas’ expression remained happy and patient so Dean thought maybe it had worked.

            Licking his lips, Dean moved forward. He let his palm flatten so he was cupping Cas’ cheek and pulled him closer. Their lips touched with still hesitation, neither of them wanting to push or press, which made it less a kiss and more just a brush of skin. Dean let out a heavy breath, breathed in the musky scent of Cas, and settled his forehead against the angel’s. He resisted the urge to lick his lips again because he knew he’d probably touch Cas, startle him, and he didn’t want that.

            His grip on Cas was tight, his handcuffed hand on his cheek and his other on the back of his neck. He forced himself to breathe steadily, to take it all in, to remember that this was for the non-existent cameras.

            “Dean,” Cas whispered.

            Dean refused to open his eyes, to even shift. “Yeah?”

            “Are you okay?” Cas’ handcuffed hand curled over his own, holding him steady.

            “Yeah.”

            Dean still didn’t move, didn’t close the space between their lips again. He felt his heart in his chest like a ticking time bomb, knew this was too much for him to handle, and he wondered if he could spend the ten minutes just this close to Cas, just breathing, just trying to stand the weight of being together.

            Then Cas closed the space between them. His kiss was tentative but strong. He pressed his lips against Dean’s, a little off base but not far. And whatever damn was holding Dean back broke suddenly. His worries about it being Cas, his hesitations, all went away with the feel of wet lips against his.

            Dean kissed back. He moved into the sensation, stopped letting Cas push him back. With a wet smack, he kissed hard and felt their mouths open. Cas’ stubble scraped his lips, his face, made him burn wherever they touched. He coaxed Cas forward with his hand, knowing his grip was too tight, not really caring if it meant he could get better leverage. Their tongues swiped together and Dean swallowed down the sounds he wanted to make.

            Cas tasted like the eggs he’d picked off Dean’s plate that morning and slick saliva. Dean’s main impression of the kiss was that it was _wet_ , soft and wet. But he didn’t really care. The pressure was right and when their lips slipped from each other’s, they always found their way back with little hesitation.

            Dean’s other hand fell from the back of Cas’ neck and down the front of his chest. He bunched the fabric of his shirt in his fist, pulled at buttons to try to get his fingers on some skin. Cas’ fingers dug into the back of his neck, touched his shoulder. Then that hand slipped to his thigh, hovering on the outside, and Dean broke the kiss just to remember what it was like to breathe. What it was like to feel his mouth as separate from someone else’s.

            Cas barely gave him the break. He pecked at his jaw, rubbed his stubble down the length of Dean’s neck. Dean whimpered and then tried his best to take the sound back by muffling all other noise as he let out heavy breaths. Cas’ lips wrapped around his earlobe and Dean’s breath became shaky, unsteady, and holding the whine in his chest made him feel like he wasn’t breathing at all.

            “Cas,” Dean whispered. He opened his eyes to meet Cas’ and felt lost in their sea of blue. He rubbed his fingers under Cas’ chin and pulled him in for another kiss. A soft one this time. The kind of kiss Dean thought he could get used to on late nights or after hunts or when Cas popped back in after months away.

            Their long kiss broke into smaller ones, gentle pecks that led to Dean licking his lips and trying to shift closer to Cas. Their thighs were already pressed flush together, their fingers wrapped up in each other’s hair.

            When he caught his breath again, Dean pushed all his thoughts away and kissed Cas heavily. He kissed him with the intent of memorizing the shape of his lips, the taste of his smile on his tongue, the feel of that stubble against his face. He kissed him to know what it was like to actually kiss the guys he wanted to kiss. And he kissed him with the knowledge that he could never do it again.

            “Dean,” Cas growled when their lips slipped apart.

            The sound of his name said like that made Dean groan even as he sucked at Cas’ neck, intent on finding a point that would undo the angel. He wanted, just once during these ten minutes, to know that he’d been less wrecked than Cas. He sucked on Cas’ pulse point, got a murmur of a groan, and then lowered his lips to the crook of his neck. Cas made an unholy sound. Dean chuckled and bit down on the soft skin, loving the way Cas’ fingers tightened in his hair.

            “Dean,” Cas breathed out, the word barely audible, more like a prayer. And god did Dean love the thought that he could make an angel _pray_. “Dean, we’re just supposed to... kiss. Like teenagers.”

            Dean almost laughed as he raised his lips back to Cas’. There was no mistaking the relief in the press of their lips, the way Cas’ breathing steadied with Dean no longer latched onto his neck. “You think teenagers just kiss?” Dean whispered as he grazed his teeth along Cas’ jaw line. “Cas, this is basically PG.”

            Cas let out a doubtful laugh as Dean dug his nails into his thigh. He ran his thumb up the inseam of Cas’ pants, loving the way the angel whimpered for him, and then regretted it when Cas swiped his tongue into his mouth with reckless abandon.

            Dean thought, for the first time since the door locked, that they might actually be in danger of crossing the “just kissing” line.

            But as soon as the thought entered his mind, a knock came at the door. Dean felt one last, soft press of Cas’ lips against his own before the other man pulled away. Dean let his hands fall away, shifted so they weren’t so pressed together and put his fingers to his lips. They felt raw and bruised, and when Cas looked his way, Dean knew his mouth was probably just as red and pulsing.

            Dr. Manning peeked her head inside and smiled. “That’s the end of our session, guys. You can go to dinner now.”

            Dean nodded but didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he could move without embarrassing himself. Luckily, Cas didn’t move either, didn’t even look his way, and Dr. Manning seemed to get the hint. She disappeared from the doorway and let them sit there, just breathing.

 

Cas had no idea how they made it through dinner. It seemed like a miracle and a dream and a statistical impossibility all wrapped into one. But somehow they got off that couch, they walked to the ballroom, and they sat down to eat like nothing had changed. Like nothing had just gone horribly off the rails.

            Cas kept sneaking glances at Dean and he was fairly certain Dean was doing the same, even if he never caught him. He made an effort to eat the food on his plate if only because chewing was a great distraction from the other things he could currently be doing with his mouth. He tried to shake it off. He had gotten no thoughts from Dean, no prayers, that would indicate he wanted anything more, that he thought anything of their little make out session. And the most he had got during was a sparked realization that it would never happen again.

            Silence had become Cas’ refuge in the last few days and he clung to it throughout the meal. He responded pleasantly to the questions of other guests but didn’t even look Dean’s way. Luckily, Dean seemed to be trying just as hard to avoid him which annoyed Cas as much as he appreciated it. Had he crossed a line? Had he taken it past friendly kissing to maintain their cover? Although, there was no way they could have blown their cover in that room. Cas knew there had been no cameras in that room and he tried to bury the guilt with mashed potatoes.

            Eventually they had to go back to the room but they stalled as long as possible. Dean got seconds and then two desserts. They were the last ones left in the ballroom by the time they got out of their seats. Then, in a burst of panicked inspiration, Cas suggested they check the front office to see if there was anything suspiciously supernatural there. Dean quickly agreed which Cas was at once grateful for and worried about.

            But the front office proved fruitless. It was a small space with one desk and a multitude of shelves covered in ceramic cats. And no matter how many times Dean insisted that ceramic cats were a harbinger of pure evil, they found nothing that furthered the investigation or gave them an excuse not to head back to their room.

            Heavy steps led them up the stairs and to their door. Cas opened it slowly like maybe something would happen to pull them away if he hesitated. It didn’t. Soon, almost immediately, they were inside with the door closed and the dying sun trickling over the floorboards and little other furniture than the bed that took up most of the room. For the first time, Cas felt cramped in the small space. For the first time, he felt truly awkward about being perpetually handcuffed to Dean.

            He tried to step away from the door but Dean didn’t budge. Cas looked over his shoulder, about to ask Dean what was wrong, but something about the look on his face stopped him. Dean looked like he was struggling with something, like he wanted to say something but the words wouldn’t come to him. Whatever it was, Cas couldn’t tell because Dean was still doing his best to block Cas out and Cas supposed he should respect that.

            “Cas,” Dean said after a moment, as if Cas hadn’t been staring at him the whole time or standing less than a foot away. “Don’t take this the wrong way or read into it or anything, but...” Dean swallowed hard. “Look, I never really got to kiss the guys I wanted to kiss and I was just wondering if maybe we could—”

            “Yes,” Cas said.

            He let instinct take over. He swallowed all his doubts. He pushed Dean back against the door and kissed him with all he had, relishing the instant calm of their lips pressing together. Dean was a rough kisser, whether he knew it or not. He kissed with his whole heart on display like nothing could be more important, like nothing could mean more to him. Cas thought maybe it had something to do with the fact that Dean had to keep such tight control over the rest of his life, had to keep everything together to raise Sam, to be the man of the house, and this was the one thing Dean didn’t have to worry about going overboard with.

            Cas tilted Dean’s jaw down, opening up his lips and rubbing their tongues together. A rumble made its way through Dean’s body and Cas pressed even closer, pulling their bodies flush together. Dean dug his fingernails into the back of Cas’ neck and groaned right into the kiss, knocking their teeth together and making Cas wholly comfortable with the imperfect nature of their kissing. Maybe that meant it was nothing, that it wasn’t meant to be, that it was just as Dean had said – a way to kiss all the guys he had never gotten to kiss.

            Dean pushed him back suddenly and Cas thought maybe he’d made a mistake, misinterpreted, but it only took a second for their lips to crash together again. Dean started to step forward, drove Cas towards the bed, and then crawled over him on the mattress when he fell. Cas tried to catch his breath in the brief second of relief but failed. Sucked into another kiss, he tried to pull Dean closer, to get their bodies together again, but Dean held himself frustratingly far away. And the handcuffs weren’t helping Cas at all.

            Without even really thinking about it, a burst of magic ran through Cas and the handcuffs unlocked. He put his hand on Dean’s hip and pulled him down roughly, bringing his entire weight down on top of him. Their kiss broke with a huff of air.

            “What the fuck?” Dean said. He glanced down at his wrist. “How’d you do that?”

            “I just... I just unlocked them.”

            Dean raised an eyebrow. “This whole time you could have simply _unlocked them_ and we’ve been running around like a pair of lunatics for days?”

            Cas narrowed his eyes, confused as to why on earth they were even talking about this right now. Dean was pressing down on him, his whole weight sending Cas sinking into the mattress, and his lips were already red and swollen. But Cas tried to regain enough of his common sense to reply and managed, “Is that really important right now?”

            Dean seemed frozen for a second and Cas panicked, suddenly wondering if it was the wrong thing to say. After all, if they were just friends fooling around, what did it matter what broke them out of it?

            But Dean simply sighed and said, “Remind me I’m mad about this later.”

            Cas almost laughed but it was hard to do that with Dean’s tongue in his mouth. He arched up into his body and let his hands grip Dean tight, pull him closer. Even without the constraints of the therapy room, without the instructions and the time limit, neither of them seemed that desperate to go past making out. Dean focused on his kisses, his hands holding down Cas’ hips, and Cas tried to whine his displeasure. Dean just chuckled at him.

            When Dean dipped his lips to Cas’ neck, Cas turned his head to suck on Dean’s earlobe. He felt him moan against his neck and felt all kinds of powerful. After all, how many monsters did it take to make Dean Winchester weak? Certainly more than one angel sucking on his earlobe while he grabbed at Dean’s shirt for leverage and kept his fingers wrapped tightly in Dean’s short hair.

            Cas moved his lips down Dean’s jaw line, making sure his stubble touched Dean’s skin. Dean pressed his lips tight around the sounds he was making and Cas had to nudge his mouth open again to kiss him, to swallow the sounds for him, to feel every rumble against his tongue. He felt their kisses getting lazy, losing urgency and becoming complacent, but he didn’t mind at all. He liked just the weight of Dean against him, just the feeling of their tongues tied together. The human fascination with kissing finally made perfect sense to him. He was sure he could spend the rest of his immortal life like this, in bed with Dean Winchester, even if that meant he would spend eternity in hell with him. Wherever Dean ended up, that’s where Cas would go.

            The phone rang.

            Dean parted their lips with bleary confusion, his breathing heavy and his eyes glazed. With one hand, he reached for the phone. With the other, he pulled down the collar of Cas’ shirt. Even as he brought the phone to his ear, he started to lay kisses along Cas’ collarbone and Cas started to forget that the phone had even rung.

            When Dean said, “Hello?” Cas almost replied.

            Then Dean stopped kissing his chest and froze altogether. His eyes met Cas’ and their green depths were panicked, shocked, like a deer in the proverbial headlights. After a second, he let his eyes close even as he breathed heavily around words Cas couldn’t quite catch. Then Dean rolled off the bed, got to his feet, and scrubbed a hand down his face.

            “What?” Dean said. “No, I’m not out of breath. I was just... We had to run from something.”

            Cas could hear the edges of Sam’s excited murmurings on the other end of the line, knew what the questions would be without having to hear them. Sam wanted to know what had chased them, had they seen it, what did it sound like. Cas rubbed at his sore lips as he propped himself up in a sitting position. He let his eyes follow Dean as he lied to Sam, giving vague answers and snapping when Sam asked for specifics.

            “Yeah. Yeah, fine.” Then Dean laughed. “Yeah, I’m totally out of shape. Fuck you.” He waited a second before mumbling, “Love you too, bitch. Goodnight.” He slammed the phone down.

            Cas watched him for a second. Dean was perfectly still standing over the phone, only two feet away but it felt like a mile. His shoulders were set, heavy and tense, and he had hung his head. Cas let him have the silence no matter how much he wanted to say something, to ask if he was all right.

            “That didn’t happen,” Dean said finally. “It was just...”

            “It meant nothing,” Cas said, even though the words felt like poison on his lips. He swallowed the urge to cry with sudden ferocity – he was an angel for Chuck’s sake – and met Dean’s eyes with the most impassive expression he could muster. “It’s been a tough few days.”

            “Exactly,” Dean grumbled. He turned away and headed for the bathroom. The door slammed behind him and Cas heard the sound of the shower turning on.

            With a sigh, Cas picked the unlocked handcuffs off the bed and dropped them on the bedside table. Knowing Dean wouldn’t want to share the bed tonight, Cas closed his eyes and headed back to heaven to pass the midnight hours.

 

Dean woke up alone. He woke up alone most days so he had no idea why it felt so different now, so empty. Going to sleep last night without Cas by his side had been oddly discomforting, like he’d been missing his favourite toy. And now, with the sunlight streaming in and the bed empty except for him, with the handcuffs glinting on the side table and room eerily silent, Dean couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed.

            His mind wandered to last night. Had it been a mistake to ask Cas to kiss him again? It hadn’t seemed like it at the time. It had seemed innocent enough. A simple way to kiss the guy he had a crush on without letting on that he had a crush on him.

            Dean groaned and stuffed his face into the pillow.

            A flutter of wings filled the air and, with a whoosh, Cas stood at the side of the bed. Dean didn’t even have to look up to know he was there. He heard the cuffs clink as Cas picked them up, then the crunch as Cas clipped it around his wrist.

            “Dean,” he said.

            “Yeah,” Dean grumbled, “yeah.” He rolled into a sitting position and offered his hand to Cas. He focused on the cold of the metal as it snapped into place. “We need to figure out what’s going on in that black room,” Dean said, more to hear his own voice than anything else. “Sam had a few ideas about what might need a lair like that so any new evidence would be helpful.”

            “I can go alone and see,” Cas said.

            “And when you get caught without the cuffs on?”

            Cas pursed his lips. “I won’t get caught. Without you, I can become invisible.”

            Dean stared at him for a moment and then nodded. He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t want to let Cas go, not after last night. But what choice did he have? Cas was a grown man and he’d go where he pleased and once this hunt was over, he’d probably go right back to heaven without a word. Dean would have to get used to that soon.

            With a sigh, he said, “Let’s skip breakfast, grab some coffee, and do some searching before the games start up for the day, all right?”

            “All right.”

            Dean tried not to think about the tone of Cas’ voice, about the way the angel’s eyes lingered over him. And he tried not to be mad about last night either. It had been his idea. He was the one who had said they should forget about it. He’d done everything in his power to convince Cas it meant nothing to him, so why the hell would Cas be able to tell that he was lying?

            They made their way into the ballroom, managed to grab coffee without alerting anyone to their presence, and then headed back out into the lobby. Dean eyed the front office – the ceramic cats still gave him the creeps – and sipped his coffee. Cas was saying something about all black rooms and the origins of cupids and love demons but Dean wasn’t paying much attention. It seemed a lot like what Sam had been saying the night before.

            “Hello there!” Jennifer appeared out of nowhere, fresh faced and cheery. She stood behind the desk like she’d been there the whole time and Dean startled, spilling coffee over his hand and cursing. She continued to smile. “Are you boys lost? Breakfast is in the same place as always.”

            “We thought we might get some fresh air,” Dean said. “You know. Coffee. Green grass. Flowers. All that jazz.”

            Cas nodded. “I quite like jazz.”

            Dean resisted the urge to groan and nudged Cas in the ribs with his elbow. All that got him was a confused look from the angel, so Dean offered Jennifer a nice smile and said, “This is quite a nice place you’ve got here. Big lot. Trees. It’s almost like paradise.”

            Jennifer’s smile softened from customer service perky to genuine kindness. She shrugged. “It’s not my place. Dr. Magnusson bought it from my father a few years back. It used to be a karate camp for little kids.”

            “Anything bad happen around here back then?”

            She frowned. “What do you mean?”

            Dean shrugged and tugged Cas with him so he could approach the front desk. “Just been hearing some stories about gruesome murders out in the woods around here? Three or four in the last six months?”

            “Those have nothing to do with us.”

            “Of course not. But it’s close by. Must be bad for business.”

            Jennifer shrugged. “We haven’t had any trouble filling spots. Dr. Magnusson is one of the leading couples’ therapists in the world and his techniques are legendary. People come from all over to see him.”

            “Despite the murders.”

            “Like I said, those have nothing to do with us.”

            Dean glanced towards Cas who had an odd frown on his face. He had tilted his head to the side as if listening for something, anything. Focusing back on Jennifer, Dean said, “You don’t think that’s odd? Eight people are murdered within walking distance of your retreat and no one, not one person, has expressed concerns about their safety while they’re here?”

            “Our guests have more pressing problems. Like their failing marriages.”

            “Right,” Dean said. “Because a failing marriage is much more important than potentially dying.”

            “You’re here.”

            Dean didn’t know how to respond to that one. He cleared his throat, took a swig of the sludge the retreat called coffee, and swallowed hard.

            “Why are you asking all these questions, anyways?” She crossed her arms. “I thought you two were going for a walk.”

            “Occupational hazard.” Dean offered her his most charming smile. “We’re FBI agents and we just got curious about the case.”

            “The police already cleared everyone here. You’re perfectly safe.”

            Dean nodded, thanked her for her time, and made excuses as he and Cas started for the front doors. Once they were out in the sunlight, the morning heat stifling and oddly cool all at once, Dean said, “She seem a little jumpy to you?”

            Cas shrugged. “The oddest thing was that she said her father used to own the place as a children’s camp. Who keeps working at their father’s old camp after its main function changes?”

            “Nearly divorced people, young children, what’s the real difference?”

            Cas pursed his lips and Dean could tell he didn’t quite follow that logic. Dean bit back a sigh, ready to start to explain away the oddity of his statement, but Cas came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the building. Dean almost opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but Cas shoved his hand over his lips and pulled them back towards the wall of the building.

            Slowly, Dean started to hear the voices. He had no doubt that Cas could hear the argument clearer than he could but he still didn’t see what it had to do with the case. The Davies’ voices carried through the air, their whisper fight become full out shouting. Dean shot Cas a look when the mistress’ name came up – Annabelle’s mistress – and Cas let his hand drop from Dean’s lips.

            “We should leave them to it,” Dean whispered.

            Cas shook his head. “They’re in pain.”

            “They’re unhappy,” he said. “That’s not the kind of pain we deal with.”

            Cas reluctantly agreed and the two of them walked backwards to go around the other side of the building. As they walked, pretending to enjoy the scenery, Dean kept glancing towards the staff bunks. From the back of the building, he could see the drawn curtains on the black room and the shadows of movement inside.

            “Can you teleport in there now, invisible, and see who’s in there?” Dean asked.

            Cas nodded and they headed out to the tree line. With a snap of his fingers, Cas undid the handcuffs and disappeared. Dean slumped back against a tree, sipped his coffee, and stood lookout the best he could. He rubbed his sore wrist, pressing into the red skin and cursing. Part of him wondered how long they could stay away, when the therapists would realize they were missing and go looking for them. Not that they’d think to check the woods or their own bedrooms for them, but Dean didn’t want to arouse suspicion. The first week was coming to an end and the potential threat was getting stronger. Any slip ups and they could end up with two dead bodies on their hands.

            Cas reappeared by the tree, took the cuffs, and clasped them around his wrist. He said nothing.

            “So?” Dean prompted.

            “There’s nothing in there.”

            Dean blinked and glanced back at the cabin. Sure enough, he saw a shadow of movement through the curtains, a slight breeze shifting them away from the windows. “No one?” Dean said. “Are you sure?”

            Cas shrugged. “There’s a presence, like... excess energy from something supernatural. It’s shifting in the room. But the thing itself is nowhere to be found, just traces of its power.”

            “But if it’s so powerful that it’s leaving behind traces of itself, shouldn’t we be able to tell when we’re standing right in front of it?”

            “Possibly. Or maybe its cloaking allows it to travel without leaving those traces behind and it let’s its cloaking down when it’s in the room.”

            Dean shook his head. “What on earth is powerful enough that its _energy_ causes movement in a room?”

            “A god.”

            Dean cursed. He hated dealing with gods. The weapons were weird and hard to find. Fighting them left him bruised and battered and full of enough self-hatred to fuel him for years. They always thought they knew so much about him, could see right through him, and this retreat was fucking with his mind enough without a god walking around trying to see him for who he really was.

            “What asshole god thinks it’s a good idea to go around putting married couples inside each other miles from a marriage retreat? Is there a god of unhappy endings? Of merging bodies?”

            “Perhaps. We need more information, Dean. We need to figure out what the motive is in order to name the god.”

            Dean bit back a sigh. He knew Cas hadn’t met many gods, hadn’t dealt with them like he had. At one point, Cas had been a god. Maybe that alone should give him a point of reference for the asshole they’d have to deal with. But Cas, like always, was his pleasant and impassive self and just a little part of Dean wanted fiery, angry Cas back. The Cas who would have killed for him. Not this one who felt like keeping him at a distance was a good idea.

            “Why wouldn’t I understand you wanting to see your family?” Dean blurted.

            Cas blinked and looked at him. “What?”

            “Earlier, in therapy, you said I wouldn’t understand what you were doing when you left. But then you admitted you left for heaven, for your family. Why wouldn’t I understand that?” Dean didn’t know where the words were coming from, didn’t know why he couldn’t stop his tongue from moving. “I lost my dad. I’ve lost Sammy multiple times. My mom... she’s no longer my mom. And you? I lose you all the goddamn time. Do you really think if my family were a snap of the fingers away, exactly how I remembered them, that I wouldn’t do anything in my power to get back to them?”

            Cas opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to find words.

            Dean let out a heavy breath and shook his head. He tried to hide the tears in his eyes. “Whatever, Cas. It’s not important.”

            He started forward but Cas caught him by the shoulder, pushed him back. When blue eyes found his, Dean felt frozen. He felt like he’d been seen and exposed. Cas gripped his shoulder tight and said, “Thank you, Dean. For understanding.”

            Dean nodded once, curtly, and then pushed forward. He needed to get as far from the forest and thoughts of being alone with Cas as possible.

 

They entered the room late and, because of that, had all eyes immediately on them. Cas saw Dean fake a goofy smile as he said, “Sorry. Lost track of time.” and Cas tried to follow his lead without really knowing what he was doing. Most of the time, he didn’t intrude on Dean’s thoughts. But now, with Dean intentionally blocking his thoughts and also not talking to him, Cas felt lost without the access.

            Dr. Manning gestured for them to take an empty spot in the empty room – the ballroom had been cleared of all furniture so that the couples could spread out. The very sight of Dr. Manning made Cas nervous about the exercise. Just yesterday, she had gotten them into the whole kissing debacle, the make out session that had ultimately ended in Dean sending him packing. Cas met Dean’s eyes, hoping to see similar concern in them or to get some comfort, but Dean was looking around the room, still on full alert like he always was on a hunt.

            “Okay, now that everybody is here,” Dr. Manning sent a pointed look their way and Cas had the good grace to look away shyly, “we’re going to do an unconventional exercise today. Now, I’ll remind you, we don’t ask you do anything that makes you uncomfortable and we don’t expect this exercise to be anything sexual. But it’s a way for me to see how you interact with each other physically.”

            Dean cursed under his breath and Cas tried to meet his eyes, couldn’t get him to look at him. Cas caught his handcuffed fingers and gripped them tight. Dean didn’t return the pressure.

            “I’m going to ask that you choose one partner to be A and the other to be B. Then, you’re going to take turns exploring how it feels to touch your partner. Now, don’t go getting too hot and heavy, but don’t be nervous about it either. Explore your partner’s body. What they like. What they don’t like. How they feel.”

            She paused as Dr. Magnusson stepped into the room. “Now, to make this exercise easier, Dr. Magnusson has a little surprise for you.”

            “To celebrate the end of your first week here at Sunshine Days, we will be removing your handcuffs,” he said. Then he clapped his hands twice like a magician and employees came in to the room carrying silver keys.

            “Nice timing,” Dean said, “figuring out the locks.”

            Cas blinked, feeling the words like a blow, but when he looked up, Dean had the edge of a smile on his lips. And Cas’ heart warmed to know they were still close enough, still okay enough, that Dean felt all right teasing him about something that had happened while they were kissing.

            “Do you want to be A or B?” Cas said.

            Dean shifted from one foot to the other and side-eyed the guy who came to undo their handcuffs. When the lock clicked and the cuffs were taken away, Dean rubbed his wrist and said, “A.”

            Cas nodded, rubbing his own wrist even though it was fine. In a burst of inspiration, he reached forward and brushed his fingers against the rough skin around Dean’s wrist. Dean jerked back suddenly but the magic took effect. The skin smoothed and the redness went down. Dean removed his fingers from the old wound, looking at it wonderingly, and Cas caught the small internal thanks Dean gave him before he locked his mind up tight again.

            When all the handcuffs had been taken away, Dr. Manning said, “So we’ll begin by having partner A touch partner B. Now, I want to remind you all this is a silly and somewhat awkward exercise. You’re allowed to laugh at yourselves and each other. Just have fun. Remember you love the person in front of you and everything will be fine.”

            Cas looked up at Dean, curious, searching. He saw Dean take a deep breath before he stepped forward, breaching the last of the little personal space they’d been maintaining. Cas could feel the heat coming off Dean’s body, the echo of his foot tapping against his own shoe. Cas tried to meet Dean’s eyes, wanted to meet them, to reassure him, to tell him everything would be okay. After all, this wasn’t much different from what they’d already done. But Dean still hesitated, still couldn’t seem to raise his hands.

            “It’s all right,” Cas said, softening his voice. He swallowed his nerves and lied, “It’s for the case. For the cover.”

            Dean met his eyes finally and smiled a bit. He looked uncomfortable, uncertain, but he faked his way through the emotions and clapped one hand against Cas’ cheek. Cas smiled as Dean let his thumb graze across his cheekbone, the rest of his fingers falling across the line of Cas’ jaw.

            “You didn’t shave,” Dean said.

            “How would I explain that?” Cas replied. “After five days of therapy, you finally trusted me with a razor?”

            Dean laughed. His other hand touched Cas’ shoulder, the gesture rough and unromantic. He squeezed Cas’ arm. “Are they really doing their jobs if I can’t trust my husband with sharp implements near my throat?”

            “Maybe I don’t trust you,” Cas said.

            Both Dean’s hands touched his shoulders, patting them awkwardly over Cas’ shirt. Cas held Dean’s gaze even as the silence grew, even as it started to get a little weird. Dean continued to pat his hands down Cas’ arms, his eyes shifting to look over Cas’ shoulder.

            “You have any suspects?” Dean said.

            Cas shrugged. He glanced around the room. “Everyone seems pretty normal to me. I’m not getting any waves of power off staff members.”

            “What about Magnusson?”

            “You just don’t like the guy.”

            Dean hummed but didn’t disagree. He bent down slightly to pat at the outside of Cas’ legs and Cas looked down at the top of his head.

            “I don’t think you’re doing this right, Dean.”

            Dean chuckled. “What’s the right way to touch your husband in a room full of people?”

            Cas shrugged, conceding the point. He shifted his gaze from Dean to scan the room again, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anyone who might have let their guard down thinking that the patients were distracted. The other couples giggled and whispered, their touches smooth and loving. In comparison, Dean seemed to be giving him a pat down.

            The doctors walked around the outskirts of the room, occasionally approaching a couple to say something. Cas couldn’t make out any of the words in the hubbub of the room. None of them seemed like murderers to him.

            A door at the back of the room slammed closed. Cas glanced towards it but no one was there.

            “Dean—” he began.

            He was cut off by Dr. Manning approaching them and saying, “You two look like you could use some help here.”

            Dean was back on his feet, his hands on Cas’ hips, and he glanced her way. Cas did as well, his heart in his throat, wondering what she was going to say. Did she know they were investigating, that their minds were elsewhere? Was she the powerful entity killing unhappy couples and putting them inside each other?

            “Your husband seems more interested in the other couples than in you touching him, Dean,” she said. She crossed her arms and gave Dean the kind of disappointed look that Cas usually associated with school teachers. “Maybe there’s something you could do to fix that?”

            Dean frowned. “Isn’t it his job to pay attention to me?”

            Dr. Manning shrugged. “Certainly. Cas should be doing a better job trying to pay attention to you. But if you’re touching him and he’s distracted, doesn’t that tell you you’re doing something wrong?”

            Dean dropped his hands completely. “Like what?”

            “You’re giving him a pat down, Dean. He’s your husband, not a criminal. And you’re not a TSA agent, are you?”

            Dean continued to frown but said nothing.

            Dr. Manning gestured at Cas, who did his best not to look at either of them. He kept glancing up at Dean though, wondering, wanting to know whether or not he was comfortable. Dean gave nothing away, just looking disgruntled and annoyed. Cas’ eyes wandered away and he saw that once again the backdoor was ajar but he could see nothing through it.

            “Please try to think like you’re alone. Or maybe in public but happy and wanting to show other people.” Dr. Manning smiled big at them both. “Don’t you remember what it was like to be young and in love? To not be able to keep your hands off each other?”

            Cas’ attention shifted back to Dean when he got a flash of hot, emotional memory. Moments between them when Dean certainly felt like he would be unable to keep his hands off Cas, like Cas was just a step away and Dean could have everything if he just let go. He saw them in the bathroom with Dean reminding him about personal space. He felt Dean’s desire to kiss him, to slam him up against the wall, to forget everything he knew. He saw them in the alley, himself pressing Dean against the bricks, how badly Dean wanted Cas to say _why_ he’d given it all up for him. He saw countless reunions and hugs and moments where Dean thought he was dead and moments where he came back to life and Dean thought _this time, this time I’ll tell him_. Then, just as fast, as soon as Cas met Dean’s eyes, all the memoires shut down again.

            Before Dr. Manning could prompt them again, before Dean could make up a biting response, Cas reached forward and took Dean’s hand in his. Cas swallowed hard and placed Dean’s hand against his heavily beating heart. He saw realization spark in Dean’s eyes, felt his heart stutter when Dean looked at him again.

            “It’s okay,” Cas whispered. “You’re safe.”

            Dean licked his lips, nodded. He stepped impossibly closer and let his hand slide down the buttons of Cas’ shirt. Cas felt himself shiver as Dean’s knuckles brushed under his chin and his fingers spread under the collar of his shirt. Dean’s hands shook as they explored Cas’ body and Cas felt every shiver like a slight exposion. Dean’s fingertips were rough but their touch was smooth like he was afraid to hurt him, afraid of what he wanted.

            Cas placed a hand on the back of Dean’s neck to anchor himself. He let out a deep breath, pressed his lips against Dean’s ear. “There is nothing wrong with you,” he whispered. He let out a heavy breath as Dean’s fingers brushed along the inseam of his pants, as shaky desire sparked through his nerves. He wanted to find the exact words, the exact turn of phrase to make Dean less scared, to make him believe he deserved all the things he wanted. And then he knew them. He knew them so perfectly that he was afraid to say them.

            Dean pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, his mouth open and sloppy on his skin. Cas let out a small, rumbling sound as he gripped the back of Dean’s neck harder. He felt Dean’s fingers scrambling to get under his shirt and then felt them tickling up his stomach, spreading over his skin and sending shivers all through his body. Dean’s breath was heavy, laboured, like he was holding back in every touch when he really wanted to dig in his nails and hold Cas as close as possible.

            “It’s not just you,” Cas managed. “I want you too.”

            Cas felt Dean pause, felt every inch of him freeze and stiffen. Panic surged through him, wondering if that was the wrong thing to say, wondering if he’d misinterpreted every touch and kiss and thought he wasn’t supposed to hear. But Cas didn’t take it back, didn’t want to. He stayed still, breathing heavily, feeling his stomach hit Dean’s with every breath. When a minute passed in silence, he pulled Dean in further, into a tighter embrace, and kissed the skin just under his ear.

            “You can have this,” Cas whispered. “It doesn’t make you broken.”

            “Cas,” Dean managed. His jaw shook against Cas’ skin and Cas felt the wet press of tears against his skin, against his shoulder. Dean sniffed. “Cas, you don’t have to do this. This isn’t...” Dean shuddered and then took a hard step back. Tears glistened in his eyes as their contact dropped and Cas suddenly felt cold all over. “You don’t have to pretend to want this just to make me feel better.”

            Before Cas could move, before he could protest, Dean was halfway to the doors. Cas didn’t know if he should follow him, if he should stay behind, if anything. And he was stuck in place, unable to move, because there were no words for how much it hurt to know Dean didn’t think he really loved him. Had he been so awful, so distant, so good at hiding himself, that Dean didn’t even think it was possible he wanted the same thing? Had not every being they’d come across, every rogue angel, every demon, known that Cas’ weakness was Dean? Had his betrayals been so bad that his love seemed less in comparison?

            “Cas.” Dr. Manning’s warm hand came down on his shoulder, shocking him out of his stillness. “Are you all right?”

            Cas glanced her way and then moved abruptly towards the doors. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to explain even as his steps quickened. “I need to fix this. I’m sorry.”

 

Dean slammed the door to the bedroom and locked it behind him. Breathing heavily, he sat down on the end of the bed and tried to remember how to take back control of his lungs. It wasn’t just that it was Cas. It wasn’t just that Cas was a guy. It was that no one had ever spoken to him that way, been so soft with him, told him they wanted him. No one since Lisa. And he remembered only too well how that had ended up, how he had seen her for the last time and she’d had no idea who he was. That now her only memory of him was him saying he hit her car.

            And now there was Cas. Cas who, sure, knew the life, could live in the life, but who was always gone, always getting hurt, always getting killed. And if he couldn’t have stood the thought of Lisa getting hurt, how was he supposed to stand the thought of Cas getting hurt? What would he do if Cas died again and it was no longer just his best friend dead, but the man he loved? A man who loved him back? His one goddamn chance at happiness.

            A knock came at the door the same second the phone rang. Knowing he had to talk to one of them, Dean took a deep breath and picked up the phone. “Hey, Sam.”

            “Hey.” Sam hesitated. “Are you all right?”

            Dean considered. He knew his voice sounded tired, wrecked, probably rough from all the tears he was holding back. “Yeah,” he said. “Rough day is all.” That at least wasn’t a complete lie. “What you got for us?”

            “I think I know what you’re up against.”

            “Really?” Dean looked up as a flutter of wings filled the room and Cas appeared in front of him. He tried not to let it stop his heart to see the angel so full of sadness and desperation and any number of other things he couldn’t begin to name. He cleared his throat and said, “Great. What is it and how do we kill it?”

            Cas frowned and cocked an eyebrow.

            “It’s Anteros,” Sam said. “He’s the god of requited love and often known as the avenger of unrequited love. By putting the bodies inside each other, he condemns them to be together in the afterlife, essentially forcing their love to be requited or damning them to an eternity of torment.”

            “And the black room?”

            “I think it channels his powers somehow and lets him connect with his brother, Eros.” The sound of flipping pages could be heard heavy over the static of the speakerphone. “I can’t find anything on how to kill him but an angel blade should do the trick. If I find anything specific, I’ll give you another call but I had to warn you first.”

            “Warn us?” Dean looked up at Cas as his brow furrowed further.

            “Yes, warn you. Dean, Anteros is the god of unrequited love and he’s killing the couples at the retreat who don’t love each other. He’s gonna come after you and Cas.”

            “No,” Dean said, not realizing how it sounded as his brain rushed forward. “No, not us. Do you know when he’s gonna attack Sam?”

            Sam stammered as he scrambled through books, pages flipping, covers hitting the table hard. He was trying to ask questions, Dean knew he was, but he also knew the case was more important, which Dean appreciated.

            “What’s going on?” Cas asked.

            Dean looked up. “Sam knows what’s killing people.”

            “Here.” Sam let out a heavy breath. “Anteros always kills the night before Venus is visible in the sky. And Venus will next be visible... tomorrow night.”

            “Thanks, Sam.” Dean hung up the phone quick and turned to Cas. “We need to find the Davies. Now.”

            Cas’ frown deepened. “Dean, we need to talk about what just happened. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable but—”

            Dean cut him off with a quick but heavy kiss. He got lost for a moment as he pulled Cas in by the back of his neck. When they broke, only seconds later, Dean felt a little breathless. “I freaked out. I’m still freaked out. I don’t know if I can do this knowing you’re probably going to die again.”

            “How do you think I feel?” Cas said. “Knowing that no matter what I do, no matter what you do, you will die one day and I will still be alive?”

            Dean hesitated, feeling frozen in Cas’ eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this then.”

            “Maybe.”

            “We have to be very clear about this though,” Dean said. His hand shook against Cas’ neck so he held on tighter, brought Cas closer until it was blurry to look at him. “I love you. I want to be with you. I want you.” He swallowed hard. “Do you feel the same?”

            “Of course, Dean.”

            “Say it.”

            “What?”

            “Say all of it. All of what I just said.”

            For a moment, Cas looked too confused to reply and Dean braced himself to give the Cliff’s Notes of what Sam had just told him. But then Cas said, in the softest, gentlest voice, “I love you, Dean Winchester. I want to be with you. I want you.” He brushed his thumb across Dean’s bottom lip, his fingers tickling over his jawline. “Never doubt that.”

            Dean felt himself falling, the importance of the mission failing to register as Cas’ lips got closer. They kissed in a way that made Dean’s whole body feel like jelly, in a way that made it feel worth it to have this even just for a day, for a moment. In a way that made it feel like if Dean lost Cas, he’d be happier knowing he’d lost him loving him.

            “We need to go,” Dean said, the words muffled in between kisses.

            “Why?” Cas said, his fingers on the buttons of Dean’s shirt, his body pressed flush against him. Cas nibbled down the length of Dean’s neck. “What’s so important?”

            Dean groaned and gently pushed the angel off him. “We’re dealing with Anteros,” he said and then paused while his brain scrambled to remember what Sam had told him. The information seemed to have gotten lost due to the much more pressing problem of how to kiss Cas without getting people killed.

            “Anteros,” Cas repeated, his eyes suddenly wide. Then, a second later, he came to the same conclusion Dean had. “The Davies. The wife is in love with someone else.”

            “Yes,” Dean said, catching his breath.

            Neither of them moved for a second. Dean saw Cas’ eyes falling over his body, catching on his heaving stomach, his exposed collarbones, and the no doubt bitten expanse of his neck. His own eyes lingered over Cas’ reddened lips, the sliver of skin showing where Dean had untucked his shirt from his pants, the rough stubble he wanted the burn of all over his body.

            “How long do we have?” Cas said.

            Dean let out a heavy breath. “Sam said that he would strike tonight.”

            “It’s not night yet.”

            Dean chuckled and, even as he moved closer to Cas, feeling the heat of his body, his breath against his neck, he said, “Not sure that logic holds up.”

            Cas kissed his neck, bit into his shoulder. Then he sighed. “Yes. I suppose it is flawed.”

            Dean let his laughter rumble through his body, felt Cas shudder in response to the movement. “Make you a promise,” Dean whispered, his hand falling down the front of Cas’ chest, pressing into his ribs in a desperate attempt to feel every inch of his body. “The moment this thing is dead, we’re gonna finish this.”

            Cas met his eyes. “Make me a different promise.”

            “Anything.”

            “You won’t back out this time. You won’t tell me it doesn’t mean anything.”

            Dean didn’t think he’d had the power to scare an angel but seeing Cas’ wide eyes, seeing the hurt in them, he realized he’d been scaring him the whole time. Going back and forth like he didn’t care, like it was all physical, when it’d been Cas. Cas who he’d been in love with for as long as he could remember. Cas who he’d met and looked into his eyes and simply known. Even as he’d stabbed him, he’d known he’d met the other half of his soul. And maybe that was stupid or silly or overly romantic, but he lived in a world of monsters, so why couldn’t he have a soulmate?

            “I promise,” Dean whispered. He pressed another kiss to Cas’ lips and almost got lost in it. But Cas pulled back, threaded their fingers together, and led him to the door.

           

They made their way back to the ballroom quickly. The other couples were still there, touching each other and giggling. Cas and Dean walked in, scanning the crowd, but Cas couldn’t see the Davies’ anywhere.

            “I’m glad you two came back,” Dr. Manning said. “We were just about to move on without you but—”

            “Where are the Davies’?” Dean cut her off. He whirled on her, fire in his eyes, and Cas touched his arm, trying to remind him that she wasn’t the monster they were looking for. “Jefffrey and Annabelle. Are they still here?”

            Dr. Manning blinked, looking taken aback. “Dr. Magnusson excused them to continue their talk therapy. He said they were making great progress there and he didn’t—”

            “Where?” Dean demanded.

            “Where what?”

            “Where did he take them?”

            Dr. Manning frowned. “It’s none of your business. Their path is different from your own and they deserve the privacy to—”

            “This is official FBI business.” Dean pulled the badge out of his pocket and shoved it in her face. Cas scrambled for his own, but didn’t get it out before Dean started talking again. “We believe that the Davies’ are in danger and that Dr. Magnusson intends to cause them harm. We demand to know where they are.”

            “Dr. Magnusson has run this retreat since it’s opened and—”

            “He’s been killing people ever since,” Dean snapped. Cas reached out to touch Dean’s back, to try to calm him down. His heart was beating hard in his chest and Dean’s mind was completely unlocked. Not that Cas needed to read his mind to know what he was thinking. Dean couldn’t let people die, not on his watch, not when he knew what to look out for. “I need to know where they are right now.”

            Dr. Manning stammered gibberish for a moment before saying, “He took them to his office.”

            Dean whirled around and headed out of the ballroom, Cas close at his heels. “What’s the plan?” Cas asked.

            “You got an angel blade on you?”

            “Yes.”

            “That’s the plan.”

            Cas frowned but said nothing as he did his best to keep up with Dean’s pace. They reached Dr. Magnusson’s office and Dean kicked it open without even trying to handle. It swung in, the wood splintering, to reveal a lushly decorated room with absolutely no people in it. Dean cursed.

            “The black room, Dean.”

            “You think?”

            Cas took his hand and teleported them to the staff quarters. He meant to land right inside the black room but a force kept him out, blasting them backwards into the grass outside the cabin. They scrambled to their feet.

            “Nice aim,” Dean said.

            “There’s some sort of force field,” Cas said. “I can’t—”

            He cut himself off as Dean rammed right into the blockage and was bounced back into the grass. Cas looked down at him, frowning, and said, “If you’d listened to me, that wouldn’t have happened.”

            “Whatever.” Dean got back on his feet. “How do we get around it? Or through it?”

            Cas shrugged. “Let’s see if we can get in through the front.”

            They rounded the building and, taking cautious steps forward, made it to the front door. As they moved through the staff quarters, Cas kept one hand out searching for the shield. It reached just a few feet out from where the black room’s door was. The door was ajar, showing two glowing figures and, seated on the bed, clinging to each other, the Davies’. Annabelle had tears streaming down her face and Jeffrey had his arms wrapped around her, his hand running soothingly through her hair. The figures chanted in Ancient Greek, their voices rising.

            Dean cursed. “Any ideas?”

            Cas reached his hand out, feeling for the barrier. It felt solid and stinging under his palm, like it was trying to push him back. He resisted, urging his hand forward, and felt a little give. The magic shivered down his fingertips and its powers started to become clear to him, how it was made, what had created it.

            “Dean, come closer.”

            Dean shuffled forward, staring at Cas’ hand as if he was trying to see something. Cas reached out his other hand and wrapped it around Dean’s waist. Dean grunted and Cas said, “Press against it with your hand. No. Closer to where I’m touching it. There.”

            Cas’ thumb rubbed against Dean’s and then he tangled their fingers together. He focused on the heat of Dean’s body, on all their memories together, on everything he loved about the man standing beside him. The shield hadn’t been constructed to keep them out but to keep the Davies’ in. So love, any love, was enough to unravel it.

            Cas’ hand went through and he stumbled at the sudden loss of support. Dean came with him, both of them blundering towards the open door, making too much noise to pause and plan. The chanting stopped and one of the glowing figures turned their way. The face of Dr. Magnusson peered out from the glow and he laughed.

            “If it isn’t the Winchesters,” he said. Then he flicked his hand towards them and a burst of magic flew into their faces. “I’m sorry but you’re not invited to this party.”

            “I thought they were the type of lovers you liked,” the second glowing figure said. Cas narrowed his eyes and recognized Jennifer from the front desk, only with wings. “Requited and all.”

            “Shut up, Eros,” Dr. Magnusson growled. “This isn’t about them. It’s about _them_.”

            Jennifer glanced towards the Davies’. They were still huddled together, nervous and shaking, but some sort of hope lit up in their eyes. Cas tried to move, found his fingers could move just barely, but Anteros’ powers plastered him against the wall. He glanced towards Dean who seemed to have the same idea. They reached towards each other, fingers touching, and Cas found his range of motion freeing up.

            “Finish the ceremony,” Anteros snapped. “I have to deal with these two.”

            “Wouldn’t it make more sense to—”

            But whatever Jennifer/Eros was about to say was cut off by an explosion of magic from her brother. Cas felt it blast against his face as he tightened his grip on Dean’s fingers. He bit into his lip, remembering Dean’s teeth there, the feel of Dean’s lips on his. He reached out his other hand and pushed back with his own powers, his own feelings. The light was too much for him to see through – just a white glow blinding him.

            “Dean,” he managed. “You need to go. Get to them. I’ll hold him off.”

            Dean hesitated – Cas could feel it – but then his fingers slipped away. Cas immediately felt Anteros’ powers pushing harder on him as Dean moved away but he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and did his best to push back.

 

It was obvious the moment Dean let go of Cas that they were stronger together. But Cas was right. One of them had to save the Davies’. There were two gods at work here and two of them. It made no sense to stay together.

            So Dean crawled away, out of the blast range of Anteros’ magic. He felt the pressure against his body weakening, the light fading, as he moved forward. He could almost see once he reached Dr. Magnusson’s legs and he scrambled for his angel blade. Quickly, he pulled on the man’s leg and stabbed upwards. Dr. Magnusson let out a cry of pain as he fell and Dean scrambled out of the way.

            Eros screamed – a sound that was far too high-pitched. Dean pressed his hands over his ears as the light faded from one side and became too bright on the other. He stumbled to his feet just as Eros lunged for the Davies’. Jeffrey shoved Annabelle to the ground, shielding her body with his own as the bright fury of Eros rained down on them both.

            Dean rushed the figure from behind and got his arms around her. She shrieked louder, struggling, and Dean felt his own strength draining as magic burst out of her in waves. “Cas!” he yelled, trying and nearly failing to stay on his feet.

            He felt more than saw Cas coming towards him. Then pressure hit his chest and the light faded, leaving him holding Jennifer’s limp body. Dean dropped her quickly, breathing heavily, and looked back at Cas who held a bloody angel blade. Almost as soon as he went to wipe it on his coat, the blood disappeared and the two bodies started to dissolve, leaving behind only a thin layer of golden dust.

            Annabelle let out a wrecked sob and Jeffrey’s comforting whispers filled the air. A breeze blew through the room. At some point, the glass in the windows had burst, leaving the dark curtains to flutter in the wind.

            Dean looked at Cas, his chest heaving, and managed, “Thanks.”

            Cas was silent, staring at the formerly bloody angel blade. Dean stepped forward, knowing the weight that was in Cas’ eyes, the horror that he may have actually killed something human. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. You killed a god. Nothing else.”

            Cas met his eyes. “Not even a vessel?”

            “No. Just a god.” Dean pulled Cas in tight and held him in a warm embrace. It took a moment for Cas to relax into the touch but once he did, Dean felt all the things he’d been missing in denying his feelings for years. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting himself forget the horrors they’d faced, the room they were standing in, and all the pain they’d caused each other.

 

“The retreat is being shut down,” Sam said in lieu of greeting as Dean and Cas walked into the bunker. He smiled up at them. “Glad to be out of there?”

            “After all the questions the police asked?” Dean sighed but didn’t sit down, didn’t make a move to pause as he walked through the long room. “Long day. I think I’m just gonna take a shower and get some rest.”

            “Sure.” Sam’s eyes followed Dean through the room. Dean and Cas, as Cas was walking uncomfortably close to Dean, the two of them seeming perfectly at ease in each other’s space. “Hey, I meant to ask. What did you mean when you said that Anteros wasn’t going to come after you?”

            “Huh?” Dean paused and Cas stumbled into him. Then Dean shrugged. “Nothing. Just there was another couple there that seemed unrequited. That’s all.”

            “More unrequited than you two?” Sam said, preventing them from making a quick exit from the room. He was having a hard time stopping himself from smiling. “Seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”

            Dean narrowed his eyes. Then, he said, “You fucking asshole. You sent us there on purpose.”

            Sam held up his hands. “I simply found a case and sent you guys to kill some gods. That’s all I did.”

            “Yeah, sure,” Dean said. “Fuck you.” He shook his head, starting out the door even as his hand found Cas’.

            “Put a sock on the door!” Sam called, laughing. He glanced over his shoulder and saw two things at once. One was Dean tossing up his middle finger. The other was Cas curling close and kissing the base of Dean’s neck, probably whispering something comforting seeing how Dean relaxed right into the touch, no longer looking annoyed or stressed or angry. Sam smiled, watching them for a moment longer before going back to his computer, happy that his brother had finally found something that brought him peace.


End file.
